Take My Body
by MissScarletInTheLibrary
Summary: SMUT with a storyline...or is it a storyline with SMUT? I can't sell like Seth Rollins, so just take a peek inside. First ever attempt at FanFiction, reviews are welcome! Randy Orton/OC.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own, or lay claim to, any of the WWE Superstars/Divas etc referenced in this work. I own Iseult and any other additional original characters that appear throughout this story.**

**A/N: This is my first ever fanfic, so please be gentle! I'm excited to put it out into the world, and would love to hear feedback. **

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have now arrived at our final destination, Orlando, Florida. Your luggage will be available for collection at carousel number three. If you have any further queries, our ground staff will be happy to assist you. Once again, thank you for flying American Airlines."

Iseult Collins rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck from side to side as she watched the first passengers begin to disembark. It had been a full eighteen hours since she had left her home in Dublin, Ireland, and she was more than happy to have reached her final stop at last.

Her original flight had brought her to New York, and was followed by a lengthy layover, before she took her ultimate journey to the Sunshine State. It was the ultimate journey in many ways – she was about to finally set foot on American soil, Visa in hand, and her wrestling dreams within reach.

Having spent the last number of years grinding out a living as a waitress, and refining her craft at the evenings and weekends, she had now at age twenty five succeeded in snagging a contract with the world's best sports entertainment company – the WWE.

If it was difficult to make it as a female wrestler in the United States, it was near on impossible when you came from a tiny island on the edge of Europe. Granted, Stephen Farrelly had recently paved the way for upcoming talent, but there was still a vast difference between the male and female divisions.

The WWE promoted a limited aesthetic of women, which mostly involved a flawless physique, tight outfits and ample cleavage. As a little girl, Iseult had watched Raw and Smackdown every Saturday morning (time differences sucked!) in breathless wonder. Her eyes never left the screen as her heroes and heroines battled it out, disregarding their own personal safety in favour of scintillating contests of strength and bravery. The Divas had been beautiful, yet completely fierce. They didn't bow down, and they most certainly did not give up.

Lately though, it seemed as if a lot of the spark and danger had been strangled out of the Divas division. A significant chunk of the talent had been recruited for their good looks and toned bodies, rather than their passion for the sport.

It irked her that other women saw this opportunity as a meal ticket to money and fame. To her, it was the chance to live her dream and showcase her skills to a global audience. She was on a mission to realise all of her wildest dreams and change the women's game at the WWE.

Nothing too major, then…

Iseult spent the next three months working in developmental - slamming every opponent placed before her, spitting venom in her promos, and adding extra idiosyncrasies to the character that she had worked on for years.

In a somewhat unusual move, she had been allowed to keep her own name. Despite it being of Irish origin, and the difficulty that fans might initially have with it, the powers that be believed that it would catch on, and was a perfect fit for her icy warrior princess persona. If the WWE Universe could handle Sheamus, then surely they could grasp Iseult. She could already imagine them yelling it phonetically "Iz-ult! Iz-ult!"

It wasn't until the end of her third month that she finally made it to a taping of RAW in Arizona. She wandered through the maze of corridors backstage wordlessly, taking in every little detail. The air buzzed with competition, hunger and excitement. It felt so good to be surrounded by similar minded individuals – those who strove to be the best, and would do whatever it took to ensure that they reached the apex of this industry.

She had been instructed to report to the Creative team, so that her look could be refined and shaped to better reflect her character. Her in-ring persona was a fearless woman, who reveled in battle and showed no mercy. This edge had appealed to the Creative team, who had typically worked with beautiful Divas who played along with the expected standard for their division – conventionally attractive women who charmed the crowd and took part in three-minute matches.

Iseult was something different, in that her fearless in-ring rage would have to be aligned with her physical appearance. The WWE perception of women had become somewhat limited in the PG era, so she now presented an interesting challenge as a fierce competitor, who happened to have an extremely curvy body.

She had been self-conscious as her breasts began to grow during her teenage years, filling out to a voluptuous D-cup. Similarly, her body had taken on an hourglass shape, meaning that her tight-fitting wrestling outfits were eye-catching to the hetero-normative male gaze. Lecherous comments from the crowd had been a part of her career from the very beginning.

As she got older, she had embraced her natural shape and simply learned how to watch out for wardrobe malfunctions during matches. She wasn't opposed to caring for her physical appearance as best she could, and was curious as to how the company intended to combine her personality with the expected Diva aesthetic.

She hoped to change the Divas game, but knew that change would be slow to appear, so in the meantime, it was best to work as hard as possible, while complying with the requirements of her role.

"Iseult! It's so wonderful to meet you," a short woman with beautiful auburn hair greeted her warmly. "I'm Alison, the head costume designer here. Are you ready to see what we have prepared for you?"

Iseult shook Alison's hand and eagerly followed her into the dressing room. "It's lovely to meet you, too." She silently prayed that the outfit wouldn't be too horrendous, or involve an excessive amount of spandex.

Alison disappeared behind a curtain, before popping her head out and smiling at Iseult, "Okay, close your eyes. Open them again on my count of three."

Iseult did as she was told, a small smile creeping across her lips. Alison's enthusiasm for her job was infectious, and kind of adorable.

"One…two…three!"

Iseult's eyes immediately popped open and she found herself letting out a little gasp of wonder. Her gaze fell upon the most beautiful and intricate outfit that she could ever have imagined. The top consisted of clingy dark emerald material that would bind to her shape and reveal the exquisite line of her chest. It resembled a bra more than a top, and left her midriff bare.

An additional piece of the same material would wrap around her upper arm, in keeping with her warrior theme. A small, sparkling Waterford crystal heart hung between the breasts, glinting as it caught the light.

The bottom half was equally skimpy, as she expected, and consisted of dark shorts that would snugly fit her butt. They had been embellished to feature rows of more sparkling crystal, which would create a shimmering effect with every movement of her body.

Catching herself, Iseult moved toward the outfit, fingering the rows of crystal gently. "It's perfect," she whispered, looking at Alison with appreciation in her eyes. "You get it. This is exactly who Iseult is supposed to be – fierce, feminine, and a total showstopper. I love it! Can I try it on?"

"Knock yourself out," Alison smiled, holding back the curtain as Iseult stepped behind it.

Moments later, she re-appeared, practically glowing with delight. She had feared that the company would push her in a stereotypically Irish direction, with tacky gimmicks, but they had completely understood her vision. The outfit clung to every curve, and was surprisingly comfortable, allowing for a full range of movement as she swung around in front of the mirror.

She stepped up on to a circular podium, as Alison knelt down to note the fit and mark down any required adjustments in a little notepad. "Okay, honey, now turn around to face the wall while I have a look at the back," Alison instructed as she scribbled down a few thoughts. Iseult did as she was told, only to hear Alison let out a gasp of her own.

Iseult frowned, wondering about the dramatic reaction. She knew she had a pretty fantastic ass, as a result of thousands of hours of training, but surely Alison had seen her fair share of perfect derrieres in her line of work. She was about to make a joke about it, when she glanced at her back in the mirror.

Alison's eyes were focused on the area beneath her right kidney. A dark scar marred Iseult's otherwise porcelain skin, extending along to the base of her spine. The bra and short shorts exposed so much of her abdomen and back that it was impossible to miss the imperfection.

Iseult, unaccustomed to this extreme level of skimpiness in her wrestling outfits, hadn't had a reason to think about the scar in a long time. In that moment though, her thoughts were drawn back to its genesis. She trembled as the memories hit her with violent, unexpected forcefulness.

She opened her mouth to speak, but could only push out a few shaky breaths. Alison, taken aback by the deep mark and Iseult's powerful response, quickly rushed to reassure her.

"Do not even worry about it. I can extend the straps to interlink once down your back, and wrap the remaining material around your waist. It will keep the lines clean and offer additional support for that gorgeous chest of yours that will be the envy of millions."

Alison smiled as she wrapped the material around Iseult's slim waist, trying to remain upbeat and carefully layering the material so as to cover up the dark line. It was obviously a sensitive subject for Iseult, and Alison was not about to push her on it.

It was hard enough for women to wear tiny outfits in front of a global audience on a weekly basis, without having to worry about every flaw and imperfection being commented upon while they did it. Social media was a particularly vocal form of torture for female wrestlers these days.

Iseult was grateful for Alison's quick and comforting words, as she tried to steady her breath. She was unnerved by the sudden reminder of her past, but determined to push past it.

_This is your job now. It's time to act like a professional, not a scared child. Iseult is a kickass warrior, remember?_

She obliged as Alison told her to turn this way and that, with the dressmaker deciding to add slim strips of gauzy material to the waistband of the shorts, so as to sway and enhance Iseult's ethereal image as she moved.

The Irish woman quickly changed back into her previous outfit of a red and white striped tank top, skinny jeans and a pair of black Converse. She thanked Alison for her hard work and ducked back out into the hallway. Rubbing her hands up and down her upper arms so as to quell the goosebumps that had broken out, she walked aimlessly, her mind pre-occupied by the past and how she could not afford to let it affect her so obviously again.

After a few minutes of admonishing herself, she looked up to figure out exactly where she was. The show was due to start shortly, and management had kindly gifted her a ringside seat. She didn't want to miss one second of the action.

The frame of a tall, muscular and rather well oiled man soon caught her eye.

_No way!_ _It's Randy fucking Orton!_

The fan-girl inside of her was squealing and only short of doing cartwheels. On the outside though, Iseult the professional, (and grown ass woman), maintained a neutral expression.

The appearance of this third-generation WWE Superstar was enough to make her forget the events of the past half hour. She managed to catch a glimpse of his back (and ass - God, what an ass), as he strode toward the gorilla position.

He suddenly turned around to grab a water bottle from a nearby table and threw back his head to take a deep slug. Iseult felt a newfound appreciation for the muscles in his neck as she watched on.

Wiping his arm across his mouth, Randy's electric blue eyes suddenly fell upon Iseult, who was frozen to the spot a few metres away. A small smirk crossed his lips as he looked her up and down, before winking slyly and heading for the gorilla.

Suppressing a smile, she decided that it was about time to head to her seat, and enjoy this prime opportunity to ogle that god-like creature in closer quarters.

Little did she know just how close she would get to him that night…


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own, or lay claim to, any of the WWE Superstars/Divas etc referenced in this work. I own Iseult and any other additional original characters that appear throughout this story.**

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who read Chapter 1 and ESPECIALLY those who left reviews, they were lovely! I decided to try out Randy's POV for parts of this chapter, and think that (as a fanfic newbie) using 'Iseult/Randy POV' is probably the simplest and best way to indicate when I switch character perspectives. **

**If anyone was wondering, the title of this story is a line from 'All I Want' by Kodaline, it's such a beautiful song. The title also refers to ****Iseult's body hang-ups from an incident in her past, and how they continue to affect her. Randy obviously has an effect on her body, which will be explored too (heh heh). **

**Please review!**

If Iseult had felt the competitive atmosphere backstage, it was nothing compared to the surge of noise and emotion that greeted her in the front of house. The energy was contagious, and she felt herself getting swept into full on fan-girl mode. She had to exercise a superhuman amount of self-control to refrain from buying a CM Punk t-shirt. Determined to at least maintain the appearance of professionalism, she vowed to order one online later that night.

It was easy to become engrossed in the spectacle of Monday Night RAW. For years she had watched it from a distance, but being there in person was an entirely new and surreal experience. It was odd to see the wrestlers in the flesh, when she had always viewed them as icons. She loved the pantomime of it all, booing whenever a heel appeared and taking part in a mass "Yes! Yes! Yes!" chant when Daniel Bryan stood up on the ropes.

Before she knew it, it was time for the main event – Randy Orton versus John Cena. Iseult was instantly impressed by their presence. Both men had that indefinable star power that was easier to identify through instinct, rather than words. Their physicality was top-notch, and she found herself watching with baited breath as they moved the action outside of the ring.

John Cena, veins bulging in his neck, raised all two hundred and forty five pounds of Randy Orton into the air, and threw him forward. Uncharacteristically, he overshot and watched in horror as Randy cleared the audience barrier, and landed with a sickening thump on top of a fan.

_Ow. Ow. Ow. What the fuck…? _

Iseult's eyes were closed. She was only aware of a sharp pain at the back of her skull, and a heavy weight on her chest.

What had happened? One minute, she had been enthralled by the display that Randy and John were putting on, and the next moment she found herself lying on her back with a God awful pain in her head.

Her eyelids slowly fluttered open, but instantly slammed shut when the bright lights surrounding the ring assaulted her senses. Determined to figure out what had happened, she forced them open again, and discovered the source of the weight on her chest.

**Randy POV: **

Randy placed his hands on either side of the girl's body and pushed himself up, relieving the pressure of his weight on her. His trademark smirk had been replaced by a look of genuine concern as he studied the blonde sprawled on the floor. A cut had appeared on her hairline, and ruby red blood had started to seep from it.

He felt like a complete asshole. The woman beneath him was the same one he had spotted backstage earlier. How did he always manage to miss the hot fans at meet and greets? She had probably come to see that bastard CM Punk. Randy just didn't understand what women saw in that loudmouth.

Shaking his head, he brought his mind back to the pressing matter at hand – her wellbeing. She seemed to be coming around slowly, a dazed look emanating from the bluest eyes he had ever seen. They were piercing, and fanned by the longest lashes. She looked like a perfect doll.

Keenly aware of the audience and television cameras, he quickly leaned down to her, putting his lips close to her ear so as to not be overheard.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. The medical staff will be with you in just a second. You're going to be fine."

His face twisted into a snarl as he stood up, leaped over the barrier and lunged at Cena. The fans, confused as to whether it was a work or not, were quickly brought back into the match and turned their attention away from Iseult.

**Iseult POV:**

Slowly acclimatising to her surroundings, Iseult stayed perfectly still as the ringside doctor checked her over. She still felt woozy, but the ache in her head had begun to subside a bit.

"I'm Doctor Sampson. Can you tell me your name, Miss?" the physician asked, while shining a light in her eyes and examining her pupils.

"Iseult," she murmured, feeling overwhelmed by the noise and heat.

The doctor frowned down at her, pursing his lips.

"That can't be right. Miss, can you please tell me your name? I need to know that your memory hasn't been affected by the collision."

"Iseult," she insisted with all the strength that she could muster. "I'm not concussed, I just have a weird name. I'm fine. Honestly. Just embarrassed beyond belief. Can you please let me up?"

Dr. Sampson smiled in spite of himself.

"Alright then, you can get up – slowly. Although we're going to have to take a look at you backstage."

"Fine. Anything you want. I'm sure that cellphone footage of this little incident has already made it to YouTube, and I don't want to give the world much more to talk about tonight."

She sat up, her hand finding blood on her hairline.

_Yuck._

**Randy POV:**

Randy finally got to deliver the RKO and strike his pose as the crowd went ballistic. His eyes followed the beautiful fan as Sampson and his team helped her up and walked her toward the training room. He felt horrible for hurting her, and made a mental note to seek her out as soon as he could. Not to mention kick Cena's ass for his amateur mistake that was the cause of this whole mess. He could only imagine what Paul Levesque would have to say about this.

* * *

Iseult sat atop one of the rig storage crates that dotted the backstage area, sipping water from a plastic cup. She had insisted that she be examined here, rather than in the training room where others could bear witness to her continued humiliation.

Dr. Sampson carefully sanitised her head wound (head wound, how dramatic!) before stitching it up with the utmost gentleness. She only flinched once.

Swallowing the pain relief that was offered to her, she sighed as she felt it kick in and overwhelm the throbbing ache in her head.

"Did they get that on tape?"

"Oh, don't worry darling," Sampson smiled, as he put away his tools. "You will be the talk of Twitter tonight. There's no way that anyone missed the Viper being thrown on top of you at full tilt. It looked like such a convincing work at first, I was impressed by your acting chops."

"You mean my falling over like a complete idiot and lying comatose with my mouth hanging open chops," she muttered, burying her face in her hands. "I'll be sure to put it on my show reel. Of course this would happen to me at my very first RAW. It's _so embarrassing._"

A little groan escaped her, causing the doctor to laugh at his latest patient.

"Do you know where the men's locker room is? Because I need to stay as far away as possible from it."

"That won't be a problem. Surprisingly, management and Superstars aren't too keen on fans showing up unannounced," he replied, enjoying her reaction now that he had assured himself that she would be fine.

Iseult's mouth dropped open into a little O of surprise.

"You think I'm a fan? Jesus, I really _am_ an amateur. Well, I mean, I _am_ a fan. But I'm also a new signing to NXT. I've been there about three months, only managed to make it to RAW for the first time tonight. Remind me not to venture back without a crash helmet the next time."

"Welcome to the family, then," he smiled, offering his hand. "I'm Michael, by the way. I have to go do my rounds and check on the walking wounded from the show, but I'll be back to check up on you later."

"Stay right here and rest, I don't want you injuring yourself further by pushing to get up and about too quickly. If you need anything, tell a member of the team and they'll page me."

"Sure, and thanks for everything," she said, as he disappeared with a little wave.

Iseult suddenly found herself alone in the cavernous corridor, giving her time to blush furiously and mentally beat herself up. What a way to announce her arrival to the WWE Universe! She had always intended to arrive with a bang – just not literally a bang to the head. And by Randy Orton, of all people!

He must think she was a silly, fragile girl with terrible reflexes. A pro should have seen that one coming and dodged. The ten year old boy beside her had even managed that much.

With a defeated sigh, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and flipped open Twitter. As she expected, her unofficial debut had not gone unnoticed.

Some of the hashtags associated with the mishap included:

#FacePlant

#ProofCenaCantWrestle

#Lucky

#ConcussionChick

and

#HotGirl.

Maybe it wasn't all so bad – they thought she was hot! Ha.

Thankfully, a concussion hadn't materialised - just a headache, a little blood and eternal embarrassment.

The lucky tag was pretty appropriate though – millions of women (and some men) would no doubt be envious of her having had Randy Orton right on top of her for several seconds. That part really hadn't been too difficult to endure. He was even more gorgeous up close, all of that tanned muscle primed and ready for action…wrestling action, of course.

The look of concern that he had offered her only made his startling eyes even more attractive. _Damn._

That memory would have to be stored away for posterity as one of the better moments of her life, even if Randy now thought that she was an idiot.

The sound of heavy footfall nearby brought her back to reality. Glancing up, she had to avoid cringing outwardly as she saw John Cena and Randy himself approaching her. Pulling at her hair nervously, she fumbled as she put her phone back in her pocket, and shifted uncomfortably on the crate.

'Honey, I'm so, so sorry," Cena blurted out as he stopped right in front of her. His eyes took in her stitches, and he reached out to give her hand a small squeeze. "That was never meant to happen, it was completely my fault. How are you feeling?"

Iseult smiled at his anxious expression, flattered that the two of them had bothered to come find her, even if it was only serving to enhance her mortification.

"I'm okay. Dr. Sampson has taken great care of me. It's just a pity that there's no cure for embarrassment."

"We're the ones who are embarrassed," Randy's deep voice chimed in as he looked down at her. "We're professionals, that stuff is never supposed to happen. I'm really sorry that I hurt you."

Iseult was about to insist that neither of them had anything to apologise for, but he continued, "To make the recovery process a little easier, we've brought you a few things."

He pulled two shirts out of a bag, a bright purple CeNation top, and a darker shirt featuring a Viper. She accepted them with a growing sense of shame, all too aware of the fact that they did not recognise her as a colleague, but as some overzealous fan-girl. Which she technically was…but, still.

"We also signed these, and would love to get a picture with you if you're up to it." Her little stack of memorabilia piled up as he placed the shirts, a programme and some DVDs on her lap.

"Um…yeah, of course," she pushed out, not knowing whether she should laugh or try to sink into the cracks in the floor.

Carefully placing the gifts aside, Iseult slipped off the crate and found herself trapped snugly between the two Superstars as an assistant snapped some shots. She could only imagine what she looked like, with stitches in her head and her cheeks flaming from the awkward series of events. Someday she would look back and laugh about all of this…she just wasn't quite there yet.

"We'd love to chat with you longer, but we have a flight to catch ASAP," John said apologetically, as he gently pulled her into a hug. "I wish we could have met under different circumstances, but all the same, it was great to meet you…" He trailed off, realising that he didn't even know her name.

"Iseult," she supplied helpfully. "It was nice to meet you, too."

"Hopefully we'll see you at another show soon, Iseult," Randy drawled.

She had to suppress a shiver of pleasure that ran down her spine at the sound of his voice saying her name.

"Oh, it might be sooner than you think…" she muttered as they strode away.

**Randy POV:**

Randy glanced back at the girl as they retreated, irritated that he couldn't spend more time with her. She had been such a trooper about the whole thing, when she had every right to be pissed off.

Management had insisted that they talk to her, throw a few goodies her way, and pray that she didn't intend to take legal action.

_Fuck that_.

He had only been concerned about her head, and had changed quickly before finding her sitting by herself in the hallway.

Damn, she was hot. His chest still burned from where her generous breasts had rubbed against him as he lay on top of her. He couldn't help but notice that some of his baby oil had smeared across her cleavage during the little incident, leaving the tempting swells that peeked out of her tank top shiny and ripe for his touch.

It was just a shame that he would never see her again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own, or lay claim to, any of the WWE Superstars/Divas etc referenced in this work. I own Iseult and any other additional original characters that appear throughout this story.**

**A/N: The radio silence for Chapter 2 was a little bit worrying…so if you have any feedback, please feel free to share! Comments help me think about the story, the characters and where they will end up, so your input is very helpful in producing the best work possible.**

**When referring to events outside of the ring, Sheamus will be called Stephen (his real name).**

**Iseult continues to perv on Randy in this chapter…but who can blame her? Enjoy!**

Iseult stood in her hotel room the following morning, surveying the pile of clothes that lay on the floor.

_I __**could **__neatly fold each and every item of clothing and pack it properly, but….naaaaah._

She smiled to herself as she gathered everything together in a ball and stuffed it into her suitcase, grunting from the exertion of trying to zip the now lumpy case shut. She was thinking about trying to catch a few more minutes of sleep before she had to get ready, when she heard her phone beep in the corner.

Yawning widely, she indulged in a full-body stretch as she sauntered over to pick up her cell and opened up her Gmail account. The sender was Gideon Williams, a name that was completely unfamiliar to her. Maybe he was a Nigerian prince who wanted to share his fortune with her? Shrugging, she opened the mail.

She quickly scanned the contents, before dropping her phone to the floor and landing on her bed when her knees gave way. The mail was short, but to the point. Gideon had introduced himself as Personal Assistant to the Chief Operating Officer of the WWE, Paul Levesque. As if that alone had not been enough to shock and impress her, Gideon had outdone himself when he announced that Paul wanted to see Iseult at 9am.

This meeting could only be about one thing – her making a fool of herself on national television last night. Although embarrassment still burned bright in her mind whenever she recalled the events of the previous evening, she couldn't think why Paul would need to see her immediately. It wasn't like she had done anything wrong. She had merely been enjoying the product when a mishap had occurred. If he were to assign blame, it should be directed at golden boy John Cena for botching a basic move like an amateur. She realised how snarky she could sound in her own mind when she was on the defensive.

Her phone had landed face-up on the floor, and had thankfully not suffered the dreaded 'cracked screen syndrome.' Snatching it up, she re-read the email to ensure that she had not misunderstood it, or fallen victim to a silly prank. Nope. The words remained the same, etched in black and white on the glowing screen.

It was already 8.30am. Iseult thanked the universe for sending her amorous neighbours. Their penchant for loud morning sex had caused her to wake up, and remain awake, at the ridiculously early hour of 7am. If she listened really carefully, she could now make out the words of their post-coital pillow talk. _Losers. _Pillow talk was for the insecure.

Taking her mind back to the task at hand, she scampered over to the recently closed case to search for an appropriate outfit, and watched in awe as her garments exploded out of their holding in a rainbow of colour and fabric.

* * *

Iseult had only five minutes to consider her clothing options, and had quickly opted for a fitted monochrome dress that landed just above the knee. She paired it with black heels and understated make-up. Although she usually lived in jeans and Converse, she had quickly learned to always have something nice at hand when it came to company affairs. You never knew where you could end up. How true that was.

It was 8.50am by the time she found the hotel conference room that Gideon had mentioned in his email. Glancing up and down the deserted corridor, she knocked on the door and brushed down the skirt of her dress nervously.

_He's only human. Just a man. Not a big deal. _

An attractive young man wearing a three-piece suit and black hipster glasses opened the door. "Iseult?" He asked, extending his hand.

"Yes," she replied, noting that he had a good, firm handshake. "Gideon?"

"That's me," he smiled, ushering her into the room and offering her a glass of water. "Take a seat. Mr. Levesque will be with you in a minute. Thanks for coming at such short notice."

"No problem. Although I must admit that I am a little curious about this unexpected meeting. Any chance you could give me a hint as to why I'm here?"

"Oh, you overestimate my influence around here," he laughed. "I'm as in the dark as you are. I don't draw up the agenda, I just send emails and mark appointments in the calendar."

"And wear stylish three piece suits," she remarked with a smile.

"You're right, I should add that to my resume," he joked as he flicked through some documents. "I've got to take care of a few things, but Mr. Levesque should be with you in a minute. Don't worry, he's a nice guy."

"Cool. Good meeting you, Gideon."

"You too, Iseult. I'm sure I'll be seeing you around."

With that, Iseult found herself alone in the room, toying nervously with the charms on her bracelet. She didn't have to wait long. The door soon opened to reveal the broad shoulders of company COO, Paul Levesque. He strode briskly into the room, shaking her hand as she stood to greet him, before indicating for her to take a seat. He opened his suit coat and sat down, arranging a pile of documents neatly in front of him.

Looking up at her with a smile, he began to speak, "I'm glad to finally meet you Iseult, I've been keenly watching your progress down in NXT. You're doing a great job."

"Thank you so much," she responded, her heart swelling with joy at his praise. "It has been a wonderful experience so far. There's nothing quite like living your dream everyday."

"I completely agree," he replied, assessing her thoughtfully. "In keeping with that theme, I assume that you're curious as to why I called you here today."

She nodded, her hands clasped firmly in her lap so that she couldn't fidget. It was beyond weird to be seated across from the Cerebral Assassin himself, although she was impressed by her newfound ability to control her inner fan-girl. Practice made perfect.

"As you might be aware, your run-in with Randy Orton last night created a little bit of heat," he continued. "And by little, I mean a shit-ton, if you'll excuse my language."

Iseult grinned, liking the man more and more with every passing minute.

"Now, one thing that we all know about this business is that when you generate a bit of excitement, then you need to run with it. The WWE Universe is still talking about that moment, almost twelve hours later. The hashtags are still trending worldwide. No one can figure out if it was a work. Kayfabe has been well and truly blurred."

He paused for a moment to take a sip of water, "With all of that in mind, we want to keep the heat going. Sometimes, opportunities come along and smack you in the face - this is one such instance. You have a great look, Iseult. You looked awesome onscreen, even with blood gushing from your head. How is your head, by the way?"

Iseult had been hanging on every word that he was saying, trying to figure out where exactly he was going with this. "Oh, it's fine," she replied, feeling flustered and desperately wanting him to continue with his train of thought. "I've had worse. I'll survive."

"Good to hear," he smiled. "As I was saying, you have the look, but you also have a natural wrestling talent. Charisma. Promo skills. All in all, you are the real deal. And now is the time for you to show that to the world."

Her eyes were focused on his face, storing every syllable that he spoke to memory. Her world had become very small in that moment - all that she was aware of now was the man in front of her. Why couldn't he just get to the point? Why couldn't her heart stop pounding in her chest? Her mind had raced ahead with every possible presumption, but she reigned it back in, not daring to hope just yet. She could hear the blood singing in her ears as the torturous wait dragged on.

"What I'm getting to, in a very drawn out way, is that we want to move you up to the main roster. Effective immediately."

Iseult's heart almost stopped beating. The sudden change in pace could not be good for her health. Her eyes popped open in shock, and she felt as if time had slowed down dramatically.

"Are you okay?" Paul's voice brought her back to the moment. Looking up**,** she saw that he was watching her carefully.

"This means _everything_ to me," she breathed, forgetting that this man was her boss, and allowing herself to be honest in this surreal and pure moment that would lead to the realisation of a lifelong dream.

"Although I'm stunned, I can promise you that I am also ecstatic. I will do absolutely everything in my power to live up to your expectations and validate your faith in me. Thank you so, so much."

"You had me worried with that pause," he laughed. "I am confident that you'll do well. You just need to remain focused and hungry. Every day is a test, and yet every day also presents new opportunities. Run with them. Show everyone what you're made of. I remember what it was like to be in your position. Work your ass off and you'll reap the rewards. It's sink or swim time."

Iseult deeply appreciated his frankness. This was beyond words. How often did people get to live out their wildest fantasies? Almost never. This was a once in a lifetime chance.

"I am delighted to be able to present this contract to you," he said, offering her a packet of documents with a flourish. "Have a read of it, let us know if you find it satisfactory. Bring a signed copy to RAW next Monday night, and keep the other for your own records. I'd like you to attend Smackdown tonight, to get a feel for the place and become familiar with the routine. Your time at NXT is now officially over, but there aren't any major residual issues that you have to concern yourself with. I think that's everything. Do you have any questions?"

This was a lot to take in all at once. Iseult looked at the pile of paper in her hands, still reeling from the shock announcement.

"No, I don't think so," she replied, desperately wracking her brain to ensure that she hadn't missed any obvious questions. "I just want to thank you again. I'm going to give this everything I have. I won't let you down."

After the meeting had concluded, Gideon re-appeared and introduced her to Stephen Farrelly, otherwise known as Sheamus to the WWE Universe. The company thought that, due to their shared nationality and experience, he could assist in making her transition from rookie to the main roster as smooth as possible.

Iseult liked him instantly. He was personable, laidback and hilarious. They reminisced about home and all of the cultural differences that they had encountered in their lives in America over breakfast. He took her to the hotel gym, where a lot of the roster were getting in a morning workout, and made introductions.

She caught up on some sleep that afternoon, delighted to have another day in her fancy hotel suite, before heading to the arena for the Smackdown taping. A production assistant gave her the lowdown on how things worked on show day. She observed the show from a room backstage, thankful that John Cena and Randy weren't scheduled to appear that night. Her newly inflated ego couldn't bear the thought of running into either of them right away…especially Randy. Overall though, she would have to remember that any embarrassment had been entirely worth it. If being knocked out on live television was the avenue through which her main roster opportunity presented itself, then she was only too happy to seize it.

* * *

Stephen invited her to join himself and some of the other wrestlers for a night out on the town after Smackdown. They entered a loud and dimly lit nightclub just after midnight, with the majority of the Superstars immediately making a beeline for the bar, now that their weekend had begun.

"What can I get you?" Stephen asked, as Iseult settled at a table in a secluded corner.

"A white wine spritzer, please. I'm trying to keep it classy on my first night."

"Ah, we'll have you on Jägerbombs before the night is out," he laughed, as he left to order their drinks.

Iseult checked out her surroundings, and allowed her eyes to adjust to the dark room. The dance floor was to her right and filled with grinding bodies. She was always amazed to see people getting their freak on in public without so much as batting an eyelid. Call her old-fashioned, but she preferred to keep her sexy time private.

As if reading her thoughts, sexiness personified suddenly left the dance floor in the form of Randy Orton. He ordered a drink and casually rested his elbows on the bar, making the definition in his arms impossible to ignore. Iseult obviously wasn't the only one to have noticed his utter hotness, as a slim redhead with full lips and a fuller chest immediately approached him.

Iseult knew that she should drag her eyes away, but she couldn't. The man was too beautiful to ignore. And besides, it wasn't like he could see her from this dark corner. It didn't surprise her that women flocked to him, but she couldn't deny the flash of envy that ran through her. He would be incredible in bed. His body was made for sex. A pleasant sensation settled itself deep in her belly as her mind wandered, causing her to squeeze her thighs together.

_Get a grip! Or at least save these thoughts for later…_

Stephen returning to their table snapped her back to reality. "Cheers," he said, raising his glass of Guinness to clink against her spritzer. "To a bright, bright future. Welcome to the madness, Iseult."

"Cheers!" She clinked his glass enthusiastically. "And to new friends, who have been so lovely to me."

He took a deep gulp, wiping away his Guinness moustache, "We have to look after our own. I'm delighted to hear a familiar accent. If you ever have any questions, just ask. Don't be shy."

Sipping her own drink, Iseut found herself watching Randy and the redhead again. "Alright, here's one. Why is Randy Orton here tonight? I thought he wasn't booked for the show."

Stephen followed her gaze and laughed. "One thing you should know is that just because you don't have to work in a formal sense, doesn't mean that you're not needed. You might be asked to do additional duties – media, promo, all that sort of stuff. Also, it is sometimes easier to stay on the road on your days off, rather than only getting to spend a few hours at home. So little time at home makes the frequent goodbyes even more difficult. It's a tricky life, but a good life."

They continued to chat for a few minutes, with Iseult stealing glances at the bar every now and then. Eventually, they joined the rest of the gang on the dance floor, where Dolph Ziggler and Kofi Kingston were engaged in a heated dance off.

The dance off opened up to include everyone, with herself and Stephen being pushed into the centre of the floor. The look of helplessness that Stephen sent her spurred Iseult into action – the Robot, to be exact, which he quickly copied. As he grew in confidence, Stephen caught her hand to spin her out and back in again, before ending with a dip. Unfortunately, Stephen could not count co-ordinated dancing amongst his many talents. Iseult had to grab on to his shirt for fear of being knocked to the floor during the dip. When she had righted herself again, she took a little curtsy as the rest of the gang whooped and clapped.

Suddenly feeling tired from her exertions, she wandered back toward the bar on her own and downed a glass of water. She spent the next few minutes people watching, and noted that the redhead from earlier was now sticking her tongue down a guy's throat…but it wasn't Randy Orton's throat. _Interesting…_

She turned away from that particular public mating ritual, only to find her eyes locked on Randy's at the other end of the bar. She thanked the universe that the lights were dim enough to hide the flare of red that instantly spread across her cheeks. Tearing her gaze away from his handsome face, she reached for her purse. The heat and noise of the club was suddenly too much, and sent her scurrying toward the front door.

The cool night breeze offered instant relief as she emerged on to the deserted sidewalk. The dull pulse of the music could still be heard, but it was much more tolerable out here. Leaning back against the brick façade of the building, she closed her eyes and tried to gather her composure.

It had been an insane day, the day that she had imagined countless times in a million different ways.

Now that it was here, she felt uncharacteristically unsure about her emotions. Her hard work and diligence had all paid off. But now the biggest battle was set to begin – she had to prove herself to the company, and the watching world. As Paul had said, it was time to either sink or swim. She was determined that it would be the latter.

The clearing of a throat brought her back to the present.

Opening her eyes, she found Randy standing there in front of her. "Hi…" he said, a little awkwardly. "It's Iseult, right?"

Unable to formulate words at that particular moment, she simply nodded.

"I don't mean to sound like a creep, but I noticed you inside at the bar. How's your head?"

"You look so different with clothes on," she blurted out, giving voice to the thoughts in her head. Randy's eyes lit up with interest as he let out a little laugh.

Iseult reached up to lightly whack her hand against her forehead. "My head? Oh yeah, _apparently_ it's fine, although sometimes I do wonder. Sampson told me to take it easy, but everything should be back to normal in a few days. I'm just not allowed to do any strenuous activity."

Iseult bit down on her bottom lip, completely taken aback by his presence. She felt instantly drawn to him, and wanted nothing more than to familiarise herself with that broad, hard body of his. Her thoughts surprised her. She had never felt this level of instant, primal attraction to any other man before.

Randy's gaze followed her mouth as she said the words "strenuous activity," raising an eyebrow and smirking a little. "Oh, of course not. I'm glad to hear that you'll be okay. And I'm sorry to have disappointed you by wearing clothes." He laughed again as she grinned sheepishly.

"Do you think you'd be willing to risk another RAW show in the future? If you do, I would be happy to comp some tickets for you the next time we're in town."

Thinking that things had progressed too far to point out her (now official) Diva status, she could only continue with his image of her as a fan.

"I couldn't call myself a hardcore fan if I let a few stitches keep me away from the action," she declared, feeling that warm sensation pool in the pit of her stomach again. Despite being sober as a judge, she felt intoxicated by his intense concentration on every word that she said.

"Atta girl," he said approvingly. "If you want to take my number, I'll make sure to get your name on the list for the next show here."

Iseult, working on autopilot, pulled her phone from her purse and tapped in the digits as he called them out.

_No way. Randy Orton just gave me his number. I can __**never**__ call him. I can barely form coherent sentences in front of him. What would I even say?_

"Um, thanks," she pushed out, storing her phone away safely.

"I wouldn't mind getting yours too," he said smoothly, his eyebrows raised.

Iseult's stomach fell out of her ass.

He wanted _her_ number? What for? This seemed to be edging slightly beyond star/fan relations.

But no.

He couldn't be seriously interested in her. She was well aware of his reputation as a legend killer _and_ a lady killer. No doubt he had left a long line of happy ladies all over the continental US.

If there _was_ anything to his apparent interest in her, it would only be sexual, not long-term. A leopard simply did not change his spots. As flattered as she was, and not to mention _tempted_, this was not the way to start her career at the company. Her mind had to be focused on her job, not on a guy.

…Even if that guy happened to affect every stretch of skin and nerve ending in her body.

"Yeah, of course," she smiled, regretting the lie that she was about to tell, but not seeing any other way to avoid rejecting him outright and creating an awkward mess in her new workplace.

The number that she quoted just happened to have two incorrect digits. If he questioned her about it later, she could always pass it off as an honest mistake. Any girl would be flustered under his searching gaze.

"It was lovely to see you again, Mr. Orton."

"We've become a little too familiar to be on last name terms, don't you think?" he interjected. "Please, call me Randy."

God, he was gorgeous when he smiled.

"It was lovely to see you again, _Randy_," she continued. "I appreciate you coming to check on me, and the offer of tickets. It means a lot. So, thank you. I should get going now, it's getting late. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

"Wait, one more thing. Where's that accent from?"

"Ireland. I know what you're going to say – I sound nothing like Sheamus, right?"

A warm laugh rumbled in his chest. "Impressive. You can take a bump like a trooper _and_ read minds. Don't be a stranger, Iseult."

Nodding awkwardly, and fighting the urge to reach up and kiss him right there, she gave a little wave as she moved away.

_This can only lead to bad, bad things…_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: ****I do not own, or lay claim to, any of the WWE Superstars/Divas etc referenced in this work. I own Iseult and any other additional original characters that appear throughout this story.**

**A/N: Thanks to LadyEvil21 for your review of Chapter 3, your comments are adorable and make me laugh! **

**It would be great to get more reviews – I like interacting with people who read my work and hearing suggestions. It can be kind of lonely when writing a story and not hearing a lot back from readers. I've become better at ensuring that I review other people's work as a result!**

**On a side note, I'm going to my first ever WWE event next month. YAY! I get to see Randy in the flesh, awwww yeah! He should provide plenty of inspiration for this story. (I also get to see Dean Ambrose, so will have to somehow reign in my inner fan-girl…but I don't fancy my chances…OH WELL.)**

**Also, Chapter 5 contains SMUT, if that's an incentive to leave a review…? ;-)**

The past week had flown by in a blur. After her unexpected second meeting with Randy, Iseult had flown down to Orlando to get her affairs in order and say goodbye to her NXT friends. She had only just settled into her Florida life, but was now being thrust into an entirely new adventure. Not that she was complaining.

In addition to these sudden changes, the most gorgeous man had dominated her dreams the night before, and the night before that, and the night before that… After their encounter outside of the club, Iseult couldn't get Randy out of her mind. She fought a mental battle with herself, she was determined to forget about him, but her subconscious had other ideas. At night, those bright blue eyes followed her every movement, she felt his breath on the back of her neck, the calloused skin of his fingertips tracing along her collarbone, his large hands running down her stomach, dipping in between her thighs…

Despite these vivid and intense dreams, she had awoken Monday morning feeling refreshed. When she remembered that tonight was scheduled to be her official WWE debut, nerves immediately kicked in. It did not get much bigger than Monday night RAW.

Stephanie McMahon and Paul Levesque had met with her the day before, once again congratulating her on becoming the darling of social media. The buzz surrounding Iseult had continued throughout the week, as fans debated whether it had been a work, and if so - where would it lead? Who was this girl?

They had decided to take advantage of the momentum and curiosity that surrounded Iseult's appearance, and had quickly laid out the storyline for tonight. It was short and simple - a brief taste intended to leave the masses begging for more. They firmly believed that this arc deserved a slow build, making it that much more explosive when it reached its climax (which happened to still be undecided, but that was the beauty of the WWE – stories and careers could change in a matter of seconds).

The brief required her to stroll down the ramp to the ring right in the middle of a match - the main event of the night, which just happened to feature Sheamus versus…Randy Orton. Her stomach had flipped as she read the details. Shit. The universe was pretty determined to keep her life entwined with Randy's for the time being. The physical actions wouldn't be difficult to deliver – scoping out Randy Orton could never be called taxing work. The real test was whether she could convey some as yet unknown story to the audience, using her face alone. The deciding factor would be the response of the fans.

* * *

Increased heart rate. Dilated pupils. Shortness of breath.

Goosebumps skidding across the vast expanse of bare skin.

Trembling thighs.

S_hake it out. You have to keep it together. _

Now was the time for mental strength. This was the moment to prove every single doubter, every single naysayer who had openly mocked her or diligently undermined her efforts and aspirations behind her back, wrong.

Standing in front of a full-length mirror now, Iseult stared down her reflection, trying to demonstrate the same intensity that Randy did so effortlessly each week. She narrowed her eyes, tightened the line of her mouth, locked her jaw….all to no avail. She looked like an idiot.

This acting gig really wasn't as easy as it seemed. Tension re-built in her shoulders every hour, releasing satisfying cracks and pops as she continued to stretch and attempted to stay loose.

Iseult took some solace in the fact that she looked great in her outfit. Even if her face was unwilling to cooperate, she always had that.

"Iseult? We're ready for you now," a production assistant said, popping her head into the locker room.

"Go get it, mystery girl!" Nikki Bella yelled from the showers, as the other Divas clapped and hollered.

"You know it," Iseult mumbled.

Brie Bella followed her to the door, putting her hands on Iseult's shoulders and massaging away the last of the tension.

"You've got this," she whispered quietly. "Make sure you throw some extra venom Randy's way on behalf of the entire Divas division. That guy has done some effed up stuff to the ladies in this company. It's about time he was humbled."

These were the words that Iseult needed to hear. The lust that Randy inspired in her needed to clear. As charming as he had been to her, it didn't detract from his reputation. He had become a top guy within the company because of his talent, his looks and his legendary aggression. He didn't respect anyone, and Iseult would not be an exception to that rule. For once though, Randy was about to experience the full force of an unexpected surprise. It was time for Iseult to play tricks on the best heel in the WWE.

The butterflies in her stomach kicked into overdrive as she followed the production assistant to the gorilla position.

It was finally real.

A sliver of sadness slipped through her mind, thinking about how nice it would be if she had family here to witness her big moment. But life dealt everyone a different hand, and hers clearly was not meant to involve happy family reunions.

Casting her eyes over to the television screen nearby, she could see that the match was already under way. The two men were giving it everything they had, the sheen of sweat evident on their bodies under the bright lights. Randy seemed to be gaining the upper hand, meaning that her cue wasn't too far away.

"Alright, get ready," the director called out. "Iseult, you're walking on in three…two…one…go!"

Adrenaline speared her and pushed her into action.

The crowd didn't notice her immediately, their attention squared on the two champions in the ring. Eyes began to follow her as she slowly descended the ramp, swaying her hips purposefully, causing the strips of material at her waist to float to full effect. Every movement was intentional, every sinew flexing gracefully as she came to a stop in front of the ring.

Murmurs quickly spread through the crowd around her, "Dude, there's that chick from last week. The hot concussion chick!"

Iseult decided to block out their words right there and then, before she broke character and smiled.

Randy had his back to her, pulling Sheamus in through the ropes for a hanging DDT. One, two, three seconds passed before he dropped his opponent face first to the mat. The fans roared as he lifted his arms in his trademark pose of triumph. Her eyes burned into his broad back, daring him to turn around.

Randy dragged Sheamus to the centre of the ring and flipped him around, fixing the Irish man into a submission hold. Ever the showman, the Viper glanced up to catch the audience's reaction, only to lock eyes with Iseult.

Finally having him within her crosshairs, she moved forward and took hold of the lower ropes, never once breaking eye contact with Randy.

_Ugh, the man is a GOD. I wonder if he would wear his gear in the bedroom, upon request…?_

Randy's face registered his utter confusion. Why was Iseult here? What in the hell was she wearing? She looked incredible. But this was dangerous, she couldn't be near the ring, something could happen to her…again.

He broke the hold, moving forward to warn her to get out of the way before she incurred another injury.

Sheamus took advantage of his distracted state and fluidly caught Randy in a submission manoeuvre of his own. Iseult allowed herself to smile evilly as she watched Randy being taken down, equal measures shocked and confused. Keeping her eyes on him, she circled the ring ever so slowly, like a lioness leisurely enjoying the last fight of her prey. Having completed a full circuit, she stared Randy down again, fascinated by the pained expression on his face. The crowd had reached fever pitch by now.

_I wonder if he talks dirty in bed? ...Who am I kidding? He looks like he __**definitely**__ talks dirty in bed. _

When she was certain that Randy could see nobody else but her, Iseult leaned forward and blew him an exaggerated kiss. Turning on her heel, she sidled back up to the top of the ramp, where she faced the ring once more.

Sheamus dutifully released Randy, who scrambled to his feet, a livid expression on his handsome face. With a final roar, Sheamus delivered the fatal brogue kick to the Apex Predator, who tumbled to the canvas in a heap. Iseult looked on, delighting in the stunned expressions on so many faces, before slinking back to the gorilla.

"Fucking perfect!" The director crowed from his spot. "Jesus Christ. You were a revelation out there, Iseult. The camera loved you, the fans loved you, and most importantly, Orton is going to be _pissed_ that you screwed him over like that – which means _major_ heat. Big things to come for you!"

* * *

"Girl, you were fucking _awesome_!"

"You looked so hot. I'm straight as an arrow, but you really made me question that for a quick minute."

"Shit just got real!"

These were a sample of the responses that were breathlessly thrown Iseult's way as she strode from the gorilla back to the locker room.

The biggest dose of serotonin had injected itself into her system, coursing through her veins, bubbling all the way down to her toes. The thrill of being in front of the crowd, their reactions, and Randy's _face_ when she appeared were already proving to be highly addictive at this early stage of her WWE career.

Having maintained her game face for so long, she allowed herself to smile widely and laugh as she returned high fives and gamely took slaps on the back.

As soon as she entered the Diva's locker room, several members of the division pounced on her, taking her to the floor.

"Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my GOD!" Nikki yelled, squeezing Iseult tightly at the bottom of the pile of bodies. "That was the most explosive debut EVER. You have to get on Twitter immediately. Stephanie and Paul are going to love you for that. You brought it, and then some!"

"Thanks, Nikki," Iseult wheezed. "Now, do you all mind getting off of my ribs, please?"

The girls grinned sheepishly as they got back to their feet.

"Seriously, Iseult, we're so unbelievably proud of you," Brie said, stepping forward to give her a noticeably gentler hug than the one her sister had offered.

"You've literally come out of left field. The more positive impact a female can have in this company, the better it is for the entire division. That may sound selfish, but your presence, and the intrigue that it will cause, is going to benefit every single woman in this room who busts her ass day in and day out."

"You have no idea how much that means to me. I want this division to be respected. I've worked so hard to even get into this building, so now I have to make every single second count." Iseult felt her eyes watering up, and quickly blinked back tears.

Although she still disagreed with the reasons for some of these girls being here, that didn't mean that she blamed them personally. The company had decided to place a higher premium on good looks, rather than bringing through women who were naturally gifted wrestlers. The corporate mindset needed to change, not the women who had naturally jumped at such a fortuitous opportunity.

Before she had a chance to shower and change, she was called to conduct a backstage interview for the WWE website. Running a brush through her hair, and applying a fresh coat of lipgloss, she made her way out to the designated spot for a chat with Josh Matthews. Her brief at this point was to remain mysterious and dance around direct questions. It was her responsibility to build the intrigue and sell the story.

As soon as the red camera light blinked off, Josh offered her a congratulatory handshake.

"You were very impressive out there. I have a feeling that this could make you a household name if you keep playing it like that. A word of warning, though? It might be best if you stayed out of Randy's way tonight. No top guy ever likes being shafted without his knowing about it in the first place."

Iseult knew that he was right. She had been so caught up in giving the best performance possible, that she had chosen to ignore the fallout from this storyline. Randy now finally knew that she wasn't just a fan. His face had displayed a myriad of emotions ranging from shock to pain and a large amount of anger.

Although a tiny part of her felt guilty for blindsiding him like this, she was also aware that it was just business. He was a veteran at this point, he understood the importance of backing the brand, giving your all to a storyline, and that it simply was not personal. Despite knowing all of this, the guilt still niggled at her slightly, now that she had time to process and digest the events of the evening.

The situation had been complicated by a number of factors. Firstly, Randy didn't know that she was a wrestler, and had assumed that she was a fan. Secondly, he had shown some form of interest in her during their previous meeting. Thirdly, he had been caught unaware on live television, and had lost his match, to top it all off. Iseult knew how seriously he took his career, and that he was not likely to remain quiet about this turn of events.

Iseult shook her head in order to clear it. Yes, there would be consequences. But for now, she wanted to revel in the moment and celebrate her debut. The other Divas had insisted that they take her out to a bar and indulge in some celebratory shots. Although she wasn't a heavy drinker (and got such a ribbing for this, considering that she was Irish), she was more than ready to blow off some steam and put all of this excess adrenaline in her system to good use.

She turned back in the direction of the locker room, intent on changing as quickly as possible and getting the hell out of dodge before Randy had an opportunity to find her.

The locker room door was within sight when she was stopped in her tracks by the sound of her name.

"Iseult."

_Oh shit_.

It was him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: ****I do not own, or lay claim to, any of the WWE Superstars/Divas etc referenced in this work. I own Iseult and any other additional original characters that appear throughout this story.**

**A/N: Thank you LadyEvil21, Sinistergateslegend and Violets in the rain for your reviews, your kind words mean a lot! I plan on taking a million photos at the house show next month and being an all round creep. I'll make this an illustrated story! Heh heh. **

**This chapter is my first attempt at SMUT (I can't write it as smut, it must always be SMUT). **

**I feel a bit weird about this story at the moment (it's probably performance anxiety with my SMUT angle, ha). I have read some **_**awesome**_** FFs lately and am uncertain about the quality of this one. I haven't shown my writing to anyone I know in real life, so reviews really help. Feel free to get involved!**

**I'm so happy that Randy's heel turn was legitimised at HIAC. I love seeing shades of 2009 Randy, when he looked (and acted) like a sexy Voldemort. (Anyone else see this? …Nope? Not even in his "I Quit" match with Cena…? Okay.) **

**[Also, Ambrose looked very Moxley-ish during his match, no? Although, he had to say some of his spots really loudly - get it together, Langston!]**

***If you don't like SMUT, then please avert your eyes for…well, pretty much the whole chapter.***

* * *

"Iseult."

She remained rooted to the spot, unable (and unwilling) to move.

"Turn around and look me in the eye."

His voice was deep and quiet…almost too quiet.

Iseult's gut churned, immediately suspicious. His tone was too restrained, too carefully thought out.

Taking a deep breath, she swung around to face him.

That breath was instantly knocked out of her at the sight of him. The Apex Predator looked glorious in that moment. He was still in his wrestling gear, a film of sweat combining with the generously applied baby oil to leave every last muscle perfectly defined. She couldn't help but notice that, despite his calm tone of voice, his biceps bulged as he slowly clenched and unclenched his fists.

Reluctantly, she looked up to meet his gaze.

His stare bore right through her, a slight tick causing his jaw to twitch. The neck muscles that she had previously admired now displayed reams of veins – his physical appearance betraying the serene façade that he was trying to present.

"You want to tell me what the fuck just happened out there…?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but couldn't find the right words. She hadn't expected to see him so soon.

"Oh, take your time sweetheart. I have all the time in the world and am just _dying_ to hear what you have to say." He let out a mirthless laugh, as he crossed his arms and continued to stare at her.

"There's a lot that you don't know," she began, her fingers catching the crystal heart on her chest and toying with it nervously.

"I am a fan, but I'm also something else. I never expected any of this to happen. I only found out about it myself yesterday…" She trailed off, unsure of what else to say.

"WHO THE FUCK _ARE_ YOU?"

Iseult jumped involuntarily and took a step backward. She hoped that he didn't catch the slight tremble that ran through her body, but it would have been difficult to miss in such close quarters.

As gorgeous as Randy was, he was also a very intimidating man. His six foot five frame loomed over her own five foot six. She was all too aware of the vulnerable position that she now found herself in – a deserted corridor and a pissed off Viper were not a good combination.

His misplaced anger, and her unusually timid reaction to it, was the catalyst for her strength to return. Iseult never allowed herself to display any sign of personal weakness – she immediately resented him for making her react that way. Throwing her shoulders back, and lifting her chin up, she glared into his deadly blue eyes.

"Don't _ever _raise your voice like that to me again," she said firmly.

This man was not going to intimidate her. She had experienced way more shit in her life than he could possibly imagine, and she was not going to back down at this point - _especially_ to someone as arrogant as Randy Orton. She had played nice with him up to now, but that would quickly change if he chose to disrespect her like this.

Iseult's eyes had turned cold as she scrutinised him. The battle-ready spirit at the heart of her in-ring character was now flaring up in real life.

"I am a professional wrestler, and was recently signed to the WWE. This came after years and years of toiling away in crappy warehouses and gyms, learning everything that I possibly could about this business. I worked a shitty waitressing gig and spent thousands of hours of my own time, not to mention thousands of euros of my own money, clawing my way toward this opportunity. I was a guest of the company at RAW last week when our incident occurred. Do not for a second think that it was planned or staged - it just _happened_."

"Stephanie and Paul decided that now was the time for me to make my mark in WWE, after the accident created so much buzz. If you were in my position, I know that you would have jumped at the chance, too. Now, seeing as we are both professionals at work, let's maintain the levels of respect and decency that that entails. If you wish to speak with me, you will always check your manners before you do so."

Iseult defiantly placed her hands on her hips, growing bolder with each word.

"I am sorry if my appearance tonight took you by surprise, but we could only have had that genuine reaction from you if you didn't see it coming. Anything else would have looked forced. Either way, you win in this scenario. Your name and face will be all that the WWE Universe can talk about - so be grateful, or just _suck it up_. Got it?"

The silence that followed was eerie. Randy's arms remained locked across his chest, his body still tense and primed to land a major verbal tirade on her ass. He was shell-shocked by her quiet but firm words. They were laced with a deadly intent that promised retribution if he didn't take her seriously.

He never expected that kind of reaction from someone who he had thought to be a beautiful, mild-mannered fan. If he had been surprised by her appearance at ringside tonight, then he was utterly blown away by the icy determination that emanated from her now.

His mind carefully processed this new slew of information. So…she wasn't just a fan. She was a Diva, who now had one hell of an opportunity on her hands. She was right. If he were new to the game, he would have grabbed this break and run with it. He couldn't blame her for that. He had just been so taken aback by her arrival during the match, how stunning she looked in her gear, the confidence in her performance, and now her ability to back herself.

Fuck, she was electric.

As the silence stretched on, his eyes fell to her chest, which was heaving after her exhortations. His own body was tightly wound and seeking an outlet for all of his pent-up frustration. Looking back at her face, he smirked before reaching out to grab her wrist and sharply pull her into his chest.

The ice in her eyes gave way to surprise as she bumped into him. She gazed up at him in confusion with those doe eyes that he was quickly becoming addicted to.

"What the he-"

He cut her off as his lips crashed down upon hers. Knowing that he only had a short amount of time before she regained control of her faculties, he snaked one arm around her waist and placed his other hand on the back of her neck as he deepened the kiss.

Iseult initially remained steadfast in her opposition to his invading her personal space, before letting out a sigh and leaning into his hard body. Randy smiled against her lips.

_That's my girl. _

He pulled her closer, ensuring that she could get a good feel of the broad planes of his chest. He knew that women loved his body, and he was more than willing to share it with Iseult.

He licked along her full bottom lip, noting that she tasted like strawberries. He felt her move even closer until she was flush up against him, her arms sliding around his neck. Her lips parted with another satisfied sigh, affording him the opportunity to slide his tongue in and begin to play with hers.

Everything about her was so fucking appealing. Her soft moans and sighs of pleasure, the way she wriggled against him, how she responded so enthusiastically to his attention. He felt his cock begin to stir, and kissed her more roughly. His body felt like it was on fire and all he wanted was to bury himself balls deep inside of her. He didn't give a fuck if the entire company paraded past them – he wanted her right _now._

* * *

The heat of his skin. The feel of his lips. His scent. His taste. Iseult's mind went to a completely instinctive place as she melted into the kiss. Rational logic took a flying leap out of the window. There was certainly no logic in wanting to rip one another to pieces one minute, to then passionately kissing in the next breath.

Her hands enjoyed a slow journey up his chest, sliding over the firm ridges of his abs and running over his hard pecs, before entwining around his neck. She had to stand on tiptoe to reach his mouth, which was wreaking havoc on her senses.

He was so tall.

So intense.

So very _masculine._

His kiss left her whole body tingling, her mind enveloped in a hazy swirl of pure lust. It felt like he was drugging her through touch alone, his large hands holding her to him possessively. She pushed her breasts up against his bare chest, rubbing them against him shamelessly, desperate to relieve the primal ache that was building in her body. Randy took the hint and slid the hand that had been at her neck down between their bodies to cup her left breast, his thumb lazily circling her nipple through the flimsy material of her top.

A spark shot straight from the rosy bud right down to her clit. Her moan disappeared into his mouth, as she shifted restlessly against him, feeling a deep, hot need settle between her legs. She dug her nails into his strong shoulders. He let out a little growl of appreciation at that, rewarding her by pulling back slightly and planting a trail of slow, wet, open-mouthed kisses on the sensitive skin of her neck.

Iseult's head fell limply to one side, her eyes closing in pleasure. She felt utterly powerless to stop him - but truthfully, she didn't want him to stop. She was acutely aware of her entire body at that moment and its reaction to Randy. It felt so natural, like they were made for one another.

He had managed to find her weakness already – kissing that spot where her neck met her shoulder. She let out a little whimper, before clamping her teeth down on her lower lip for fear that once she started moaning, she wouldn't be able to stop.

Randy took note of every sigh and shiver as he worked on her neck, all the while still playing with her nipple. He continued to focus on that one little spot that she had reacted so deliciously to, while he finally caught her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinched it lightly through the material. He suddenly felt an urge to make Iseult come through kisses and nipple play alone. If he could get her all hot and bothered without even dipping below the belt, he could only look forward to her reaction once he got her out of those shorts.

Iseult opened her eyes, slanting them down to watch his fingers as they tweaked and toyed with her nipple. That simple action was steadily destroying her self-control. A needy, guttural cry escaped her mouth. She quickly and violently bit down on her lip.

Randy paused in his ministrations, pulling back to study her intently. She took that moment to attempt to gather her composure and gulped in some fresh air.

"_No_," he said firmly. "You're not going to hold out on me, sweetheart."

Iseult frowned at his words, confused and unable to form coherent sentences at that point. He placed a hand at the nape of her neck, tugging her hair back purposefully, so that her head was angled up towards his face.

His eyes burned when he spoke again, "I. won't. allow. it." He emphasised each word with a pinch of her nipple, demanding a genuine response. She gasped as pure sexual heat overwhelmed her body and her hips bucked against him.

_Fuuuuuuck._

He knew exactly what he was doing to her.

Iseult grabbed his face and pulled him down for a lingering kiss, determined to strip away a layer of that maddening level of self-possession that he seemed to have. She was unsettled by the effect that he had on her body, and irritated that he didn't appear to be half as flustered as she was.

He broke the kiss and laughed gently. "Nice try, but deflection won't work right now, sweetheart."

Randy ran his hands down her sides to the back of her thighs and scooped her up in one fluid motion, settling her back against the wall and wrapping her legs around his waist. He fit snugly in between her legs, as he nestled his erection pointedly against her sex. Iseult's eyes widened, taken aback by the sizeable bulge pushing against her. She couldn't help but wonder how he would feel inside of her, filling her entirely, moving against her intimate flesh.

Randy returned to teasing her nipple, his other hand firmly kneading her butt as he supported her. Iseult threw her head back and gripped his biceps. This sensual torture was almost too much. She tightened her legs around his waist and began to grind against his erection. The friction was delicious. A pleasurable jolt hit her clit with each rise and fall of her hips. She let her head rest against the wall, surveying Randy through lust-heavy lids.

His gorgeous blue eyes were ablaze as he watched her. He began to roll his hips in time with hers, roughly thrusting at just the right moment when her clit came into contact with his crotch.

Her entire body was overwhelmed by his actions and the desperate _need_ that he invoked in her. Every part of her being was screaming at her to tear away the little clothing that separated them right then and there and to prepare for the best fuck of her life.

"Ohhhhhhh!"

A loud, breathy, and prolonged moan filled the air around them, breaking through the haze that clouded Iseult's mind.

_Wait. What was that? Was that __**me?**__ What am I DOING?_

_No. No. No! This is exactly what he wants. He thinks he can act like an asshole, and then make me forget about it with a kiss and some touches. Mind-blowing kisses, but still - JUST kisses. I have a career to take care of now. No distractions allowed!_

Iseult pulled back abruptly, untwining her legs from around his waist and sliding down his body until her feet touched the ground. She ran her hands through her hair, noticing that he had managed to get it tangled.

Had his hands even been in her hair? Damn. That kiss was enough to make her lose all sense of herself.

Not good.

"I have to go," she blurted out, slipping away from him and running to the safety of the locker room.

Thankfully, the space was deserted, allowing her time to pace around and attempt to catch her breath.

"Ugggggh! How did I let that happen?"

It was on her fourth circuit of the room that she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. Every telltale sign of a woman who has just been thoroughly kissed marked her body.

Flushed cheeks? Check.

Dilated pupils? Check.

Mussed up hair? You know it.

Casting a shifty look behind her, she peeked down her top for comprehensive confirmation.

_Damn it_.

Randy Orton was trouble. A sinfully tempting mountain of trouble.

But this was real life. This was her career. She couldn't get wrapped up in him for a few weeks until he grew bored of her and moved on to his next conquest.

She would have to deliver that message to him loud and clear, and as soon as possible.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts? **


	6. Chapter 6

_Bzzzzzzzzzzz!_

Iseult awoke with a jolt, twisting and turning on her stomach to find the source of the painfully loud noise. Her hand smacked down on the bedside table, thwacking the alarm clock in the process. The luminous yellow numbers read 7:30am.

Sighing, she buried her head back under her pillow and prayed that the bright sunshine filling the room would quickly dissipate into grey skies and showers.

It was far too early to even consider emerging from bed, and she was feeling a little homesick for terrible weather. No matter where the WWE ended up, it always seemed to attract scorching hot weather and cloudless blue skies. As one of the few porcelain skinned wrestlers on the roster, she always hoped for rain and gloom to assist in maintaining her fragile complexion.

She threw herself over on to her back and used her forearm to shield her eyes from the evil death rays. Moving as quickly as molasses, her feet managed to find the carpeted floor of the hotel room and pad over to the bathroom.

_Shit_, she thought upon seeing the dark circles beneath her eyes. _Just perfect. _

The company had arranged a WWE magazine photoshoot for the hottest property in the Divas division this morning, and she just happened to look like crap.

_Whatever. I'm sure that make-up and photoshop will be worth every red cent today._

Having showered and applied plenty of sunscreen, she slipped into a pair of cut-off denim shorts and a blue tank top, before slinging her bag over her shoulder and heading to the shoot.

* * *

"Iseult, hi!" Alison caught her in a hug, squeezing extra tightly.

"Hey Alison, how are you?" It was a relief to see a friendly face when facing into the unknown.

"I'm great, super psyched to be working on your first shoot! Even though nobody could have predicted that you would blow up as quickly as you did, I had a feeling that you would end up doing something special. You're in the big leagues now, congratulations!"

Iseult tried to suppress a smile. "That's sweet of you. Although I've hardly earned the plaudits just yet – I have only been knocked to the floor for no good reason and played a sadistic voyeur from ringside so far. I'm itching to actually get into the ring and show everyone what I've got but, y'know, baby steps."

"All in good time, my dear. Anyway, our mission for today is to make you look smoking hot. That won't be difficult, so we can focus on having as much fun as possible. It's important that you enjoy yourself, play around a little bit, and the shots will tell the story themselves."

She moved over to a rail of clothes and picked out a few items.

"I had a few ideas about new outfits, and would love to get your feedback. I was going for a pre-historic hunter-gatherer look with this one. Thoughts?"

Alison held out a matching light tan leather bra and skirt that screamed bombshell.

"It's…hot. There's no other word for it. I usually have to summon the right attitude for my character all by myself, but your clothes make the process a million times easier. Iseult would definitely rock that….and I sound like an idiot referring to myself in the third person, but I'm talking about the character!"

"Don't worry, I get it. Although if you ever do start using the third person seriously, I'll make sure to loosen your clothes, just in case restricted blood flow is causing you to act like a true diva. I'm so glad that you like it! Mind trying it on for the fit?"

"Sure," Iseult nodded, quickly shedding her shorts and top. "I feel like we're close enough now that we can just do away with modesty."

Alison laughed as she helped Iseult into the outfit. "Honey, you don't even know what immodest is. I have to beg half of the Superstars to actually put on clothes. They parade around here, naked as the day that they were born, acting like they're allergic to every synthetic material."

"Wow, you have a tough job," Iseult joked, as she turned to face the mirror. A frown suddenly marred her brow as she turned to look at her lower back.

And there it was.

The large, ugly reminder of a darker period in her life.

Alison saw her expression, and snapped her fingers, bringing Iseult back to the present. She plucked a length of leopard print material from a nearby table and circled it around the circumference of Iseult's waist, pinning it neatly into place. "Here, tie this leather strap around your upper arm, and ta-da, the look is complete!"

"You're an angel, Alison."

Iseult did as she was told and faced the mirror once more. She really couldn't overstate just how good Alison's designs made her feel. She was the embodiment of primal womanhood in this outfit. Even her body language had changed to reflect this new spark of confidence. She stood a little taller, held her chin a little higher, and pushed her girls out proudly.

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny, Alison. But for the last time, I do not need padding for my trunks. It's_ alllll_ me, honey."

Iseult glanced over to the door in surprise as Randy entered the dressing room, a pair of the minuscule trunks and bulky padding in his hand.

He stopped short when he saw Iseult, and let out a low whistle.

"Damn. You're doing something right, Alison."

"Oh, please," the designer replied, rolling her eyes. "We both know it's the woman that makes the outfit. Go on. Tell Iseult that she's a babe. My ego can handle it."

Randy's aqua gaze traveled over her body leisurely before meeting her own baby blues, "You're a babe, Iseult."

Her ovaries practically exploded.

His velvet tone filled her mind with images of their writhing naked bodies and bedsheets being clutched in ecstacy. If he could do that with merely his voice, she could only imagine what else he would be capable of if he got her alone again…

Clearing her throat, she self-consciously patted down the faux-fur around her waist, ensuring that it didn't reveal the dreaded mark. "It's definitely the clothes."

Alison observed Iseult's reaction, wondering at the suddenly shy young woman in front of her. Turning her attention to Randy, she saw the pure lust that lit up his face.

_Hmmm, verrrry interesting…_

"Alright, Orton. Out you go. You can leave the padding here, but don't worry - it'll be here if you ever do need it."

"You're a doll," he said sarcastically, as he rolled his eyes and backed out of the room. "I'll see you real soon, warrior princess."

"This day just got a whole lot juicier…" Alison smiled, looking at Iseult expectantly. "I could have cut the sexual tension between you two with a clothes pin. Care to explain…?"

The make-up artist had thankfully arrived just as Alison was about to start interrogating Iseult, giving her an excuse to evade any further questioning. As the glam squad around her worked their magic, her mind was drawn back to Randy. It had been a few days since their moment in the hallway, and she had somehow managed to avoid bumping into him in the interim. It was painfully clear to her that she needed to lay down some boundaries, and ensure that he knew that they were not going to pursue their unbelievable chemistry.

But how could she broach that topic? It felt like an impossible task. His very presence made the atoms in the air around her crackle and spark. She was helpless to resist his charms. Last week had been a lucky escape. Either way, she would have to figure it all out, and soon. He was probably lurking around here somewhere, and it was only a matter of time before she had to confront him with this sad, but necessary, truth.

* * *

Moving as stealthily as he could, Randy edged around the studio until he found the perfect vantage point that both concealed him fully, while also affording him full view of the room. Iseult stood in the centre of the space, looking stunning in her cave girl outfit. It hugged her in all the right places and reminded him of how those places had felt the other night. She had an admirable level of control over her entire body – every stretch and position was purposeful and fluid in front of the camera. She was a natural.

He felt guilty for creeping around like this, but she had left him no other option. She was the one who had disappeared without explanation the other night, and had refused to return his texts and voicemails ever since. It was frustrating. All he wanted to do was figure out what was going on between them. Maybe he should have approached it with a bit more tact, but the opportunity to kiss her had been too good to pass up. He didn't regret a second of it, and she likely didn't either, if her moans were anything to go by.

It had been pure luck that he had happened to come across her in the dressing room this morning. The sight of her almost made him groan with need. She was just so fucking tempting, standing proud and fierce in that leather outfit that moulded to her body perfectly. He had to get her alone again.

He wanted – no, he needed – to convince her that their connection deserved a chance. It could lead to nothing, but he very much doubted that. Their physical reaction alone to one another was off the charts.

"What are you looking at, fella?" A deep Irish brogue intoned from behind him.

Randy spun around, a guilty look washing across his features, which quickly gave way to a sheepish grin when he saw Stephen Farrelly.

"Aha...you're such a pervert, Orton. But what did I tell you? There's something magical about an Irish cáilín."

"Oh, she's got something alright," Randy murmured, turning his gaze back to the blonde. "Do you know if she's seeing anyone?"

The thought had just entered his mind for the first time, and he resented the tightening of his gut that accompanied it.

Stephen shook his head firmly, "No. Don't even go there, Orton. Iseult isn't just another piece of ass for you to have some fun with and then drop once we get to the next city. She's a quality girl, someone worthy of a lot more than a one night stand."

The Viper narrowed his eyes. Why did everyone assume that he was only out for a quick fuck? It was true that he had given the dirt sheets enough salacious gossip relating to his love life over the years, but it didn't mean that he didn't have feelings or the ability to maintain a stable relationship. He had been a kid when he first got into the business, and let all of the money and fame go to his head, but he was a grown ass man now. Learning from past mistakes was a key part of that.

"It's not just about sex," he snarled. "I like her."

Stephen cast a surprised glance at his friend, raising his eyebrows.

"Really? Look, I don't want to get involved, but bear this advice in mind – if you're only interested in getting her into your bed, just leave it. If you truly do like her, then treat her with the respect that she deserves. Otherwise, I will not hesitate to brogue kick you in the head again, my friend. Multiple times. I'll make sure to invite Iseult to come watch again, too."

* * *

Iseult sat cross-legged on the floor of her dressing room, playing Angry Birds on her phone. "Why are they so angry?" she muttered, stabbing the screen violently.

A knock on the door couldn't tear her eyes away from the screen, as she continued to smack at the characters. "Come in!"

"Having fun?"

Iseult's head shot up, grinning bashfully when she saw her visitor.

"I really thought that I could hide my dorky ways from the company for at least the first month," she sighed, as she stood up.

"These things don't stay a secret for long around here," Gideon laughed, tucking an iPad under his elbow. "I'm personally addicted to Candy Crush."

"Oh, you're so cool," Iseult drawled, putting her phone down. "What brings you here today? Are you here for a photoshoot? If so, you'll be the best-dressed man in next month's WWE magazine. You'll also be the most clothed man in next month's WWE magazine."

"Such flattery – you're a quick study," he smiled. "Actually, I'm here to act as Paul's eyes and ears. He's a busy man and can't be in every place at once, so I get to spy on his behalf and ensure that everything is running smoothly. He told me to keep a particularly close eye on a sketchy young lady from Ireland."

"Now _you're_ flattering me," Iseult said coyly. "I have always aspired to be super sketchy, and now here I am."

"Well, Ms. Sketch, you're needed back on set right now. We have to document your meteoric rise to stardom."

"They just couldn't get enough of my winning smile?"

"Yeah, something like that," Gideon snorted, nodding in the direction of the door. "They need you ASAP. We wouldn't want to leave Mr. Orton waiting."

Iseult's smile faltered at the mention of that name.

"Uh…Orton? As in, Cowboy Bob Orton, right?"

"Randy Orton - as in, built like a tank and belongs on the cover of GQ Orton. Management want you two to pose together for some promo shots. This feud of yours is catching some awesome heat, and we have to be prepared."

"Of course," she said hollowly, as she followed Gideon to the set.

_So, this is awkward…I scamper off without explanation after the best kiss of my life, I gave him an incorrect phone number, and now we get to spend some quality time together posing in front of a camera and crew. _

_Fantastic._

Iseult took several deep breaths as she walked on to the set, glancing around to check if Randy was there yet. The space was empty except for the photographer, a lighting technician and the hair and make-up team.

Her eyes continued to dart around the studio as they fluffed out her hair, and re-applied the lipstick that she had managed to chew off during her Angry Birds spree.

She wanted to run right out of there and cringe for days. But no, instead she had to stare into those blue, blue eyes and watch that super distracting thing he did when he flexed his pectoral muscles like it was no big deal. He probably wasn't even aware when he did it, but she had noticed it was a casual habit of his during their last few meetings.

Her own habit was to stretch and pace whenever she felt nervous, as was the case right now. She raised her right elbow into the air, and used her left hand to push it down her back as far as she could, before repeating the process with her other arm.

"Iseult, we'll put you right here," the photographer instructed, guiding her in front of the camera. "Now, where's your man?"

"I'm right here."

Randy sauntered over, his eyes never leaving Iseult's face. She swallowed hard as he got closer. He looked like a god, as usual. Two make-up artists approached them, one dusting shimmer across Iseult's chest, while the other lathered more oil on Randy's abs and shoulders.

Iseult had to bite back a groan. Was this seriously happening? Why did he have to be _everywhere?_ And why was her workplace so sexually charged? She should have been an accountant. Nothing sexy ever happened to accountants at work.

The make-up lady ordered her to pucker up her lips as she slicked on a layer of gloss. Randy continued to study her, his eyes focused squarely on her mouth as she _mwah_-ed. She tore her eyes away from him and desperately tried to look somewhere, _any_where else. He couldn't know how much he affected her, she couldn't let him wield that kind of power over her.

"All set," the lady said, as she packed away her tools.

"Alright, we'll be ready to go in a minute," the photographer called out. "I just have to adjust my settings."

They found themselves alone for the first time since their kiss. A loaded silence settled heavily in the air.

Iseult looked down and twirled a strand of hair between her fingers, shifting from one foot to the other.

"You never returned my calls," he said softly.

She immediately stopped fidgeting, letting her hair fall back into place.

"Never answered my texts."

Was it just her imagination, or was there an edge of disappointment in his voice?

Nah, couldn't be. This was Randy Orton. He was probably just sad that he didn't have a sure thing lined up for this week. Iseult was certain that he could find a replacement with no trouble at all.

"I didn't get any texts or calls," she murmured. "Are you sure you took down my number correctly?" She almost sounded convincing, even to her own ears.

Randy didn't respond, causing her to look up at him. His lips were pursed as he assessed her, before shaking his head and glancing around the room agitatedly. "You gave me the wrong number. You want to explain why you did that?"

"There's just…a lot going on," she mumbled, feeling a little ashamed of her childish behaviour. "Anyway, there's nothing to talk about."

"Now, ready at last!" The photographer re-appeared, stacking his camera up on a tripod. "The brief calls for a variety of shots. We'll start with the two of you facing one another. I want to see some intensity, maybe a few glares."

Iseult stretched a little bit, throwing her shoulders back and peering up at him. The look that he was giving her was difficult to decipher, but she recognised a familiar glimmer of burning want that had flared in his eyes the other night.

"Perfect, now keep that going." The only sound that could be heard was the snap of the shutter, and their slightly ragged breathing.

Every second felt like an eternity. Her energy was focused on not flinching under his gaze, and resisting the temptation to shrink away from him out of pure awkwardness.

"Awesome. Now, Iseult, raise your right hand, as if you're about to slap him. Randy, grab hold of her wrist."

She jerked a little when his fingers wrapped around her wrist, proving that the slightest touch from him could throw her completely off balance.

He was in full Viper mode now, his piercing eyes searing through her ill-prepared defences. She felt the raw power rolling off of him in waves, as he slid his thumb over her pulse point. Her heart was pounding against her ribcage. Noting this brief distraction, she reminded herself to breathe properly.

Randy gently pressed his thumb down on her wrist, feeling the erratic beat and looking at her pointedly.

"Still think we don't have anything to talk about, sweetheart?" He asked sceptically, his lips barely moving.

"Randy, stand behind Iseult and loom over her, we want intimidating. Iseult, turn your upper body toward him and look up. That's it. Sweep your hair away from your neck. Perfect." The photographer continued to snap away, oblivious to the tension between his two subjects.

She bit down on her lip briefly, unsettled by his close proximity and the unfairness of it all. Yeah, she wanted him, and wanted him _badly_, but it just couldn't happen. The best way to destroy her career would be to get wrapped up in an already established Superstar. She didn't need the drama and didn't want a reputation.

As much as she would like to say that this was an equal world, it simply wasn't. Women had to work harder and were held to higher standards than their male counterparts. Iseult was all too aware of this, and knew that she had to protect herself and her interests. This meant that Randy would just have to offer his hot self to some other willing woman.

"Whatever it was, it can't happen again," she whispered, training her eyeline on his cheekbone in an attempt to regain some control of the situation.

He opened his mouth to respond, but thought better of it, and threw a disapproving glance down at her instead. With that, he retreated back into character and remained stonily silent for the rest of the shoot.

This woman was infuriating. She had intentionally given him a wrong number, had been a goddess during their little tryst, and now stood before him – looking like a sultry bombshell – and denied that anything had happened. But fuck, if he didn't want her now more than ever.

Fine. If that's how she wanted to play it, then he would just have to up the ante and use every means possible to convince her otherwise.

It was only a matter of time before he got her into his bed.

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own, or lay claim to, any of the WWE Superstars/Divas etc referenced in this work. I own Iseult and any other additional original characters that appear throughout this story.**

**A/N: Thanks Sinistergateslegend and VolcomStoneBabe for your reviews of Chapter 5! I stand by the sexy Voldemort comment, and am delighted that you like what you're reading! **

**I love reading reviews, they give me such a boost. It's also really cool to see the geographic spread of readers on the Traffic Stats. There are people reading this in every corner of the world, that's awesome. Thanks for taking the time to get involved in Iseult's world.**

**I'm curious to hear about the direction that you think this story might take. I have an outline, but that could change. So, where do you see this going? I'll warn you that it won't be an easy ride for these two, there is quite a bit of drama coming their way…please review!**

**Happy Samhain! **


	7. Chapter 7

Monday Night RAW had brought the company to Minneapolis, Minnesota. Iseult was pleased to feel the frosty whisper of an autumnal chill in the air during her stroll around the city. The summer heat was steadily subsiding, and she was more than ready for her favourite season to commence.

The afternoon was taken up with a Creative meeting, a group Pilates session with the other Divas, and hair and make-up. After dinner, she changed into her cave girl outfit and wandered restlessly through the corridors, seeking a way to pass the time.

As she turned a corner, she spied a group of Superstars staring at something in Stephen's hand.

"Hey guys, what's up?"

They jumped simultaneously, before turning around.

"Wow, Iseult. You really are the ultimate creep around here these days," Kofi Kingston joked, his hand on his heart.

"Then I guess you should be extra nice to me…" she smirked, throwing him a wink. "Oh my gosh, a football!"

"You mean a soccer ball," CM Punk drawled. "Get it right, Irish."

"It is soccer to you, but to the _rest of the world_ – you know, the other seven billion people – it is FOOTBALL," she snarked right back at him. "Prepare to be schooled, Punk."

She grabbed the ball from Stephen and began a series of perfect volleys, keeping it up in the air by rapidly bouncing it off the top of each thigh in quick succession.

The men clapped and let out little yells of appreciation as they watched her. Punk's face dropped at the sight of her so skillfully alternating thighs.

Grinning widely, she caught the ball and tucked it against her hip.

"Got anything else to say, smart arse?"

"No, ma'am!"

Iseult laughed happily, shooting the ball over to Kofi.

"Aww, now I'm homesick. I haven't been back in months."

"You're not alone," Stephen said, pulling her into a hug. "But just remember that the European tour is coming up in a little while. Keep building your profile, and they won't be able to leave you behind."

"An excellent point," she said thoughtfully, still holding on to his waist.

It was beyond wonderful to be around someone from her hometown, who understood exactly what it was like to miss familiar comforts. She found herself having to spend extra time with Stephen in order to ensure that she maintained her accent.

It was embarrassingly easy to slip into American speech habits - for ease of understanding, if nothing else. Her own accent wasn't particularly thick, but it was important that she held on to it. It made her stand out. In this business, that was a necessity.

"I might even throw down a challenge for the WWE title. That is totally something that Iseult would do."

"You're a crazy chick," Punk stated boldly.

"Oh no, Punky," she shook her head. "You have me confused with AJ. I'll just have to work hard to differentiate myself from her – so no make out sessions with me, babe."

Punk scowled indignantly, his brow furrowing, "Hey! _I'm supposed to be the smart ass around here!_"

"Build a bridge," she called out in a sing-song voice as she pranced away.

* * *

Determined to find a distraction so that she could forget about the nerves that live television inspired, Iseult wandered to the front of house and strolled along the upper tiers of seats. After pacing along several rows and doing a few sets of sprints up the steps, she flopped down in a chair and surveyed the arena.

It still didn't feel real. This was her life now. Thousands of fans would soon file in, wearing their favourite Superstars' t-shirts, and bearing homemade signs in their hands. She still considered herself to be one of them, despite the bulky contract that now lay in her suitcase and confirmed her new status as an employee of the WWE. She had dreamed of this since she was a little kid, and now here she was, preparing to face off with one of the top stars in the company in front of millions of people.

Surreal didn't even come close to describing it.

Her parents would have loved this. Despite the mocking that she had endured from others whenever she confessed her dream, her parents had always supported her aspirations one hundred and ten percent. They only ever wanted what was best for her, only ever wanted to see her happy.

She sat there for a few moments, struck dumb as she recalled the all-consuming love that they had had for her. A single tear fell over the brim of her waterline and sailed down her cheek.

It surprised her. She hadn't cried in so long. It just wasn't her thing.

If she ever felt any particularly strong emotion, normally anger, then she dealt with it in her usual way - by training her body to its limit, until she either collapsed or puked her guts out. Some might say that this wasn't a particularly productive way of managing her feelings, but it hadn't failed her yet.

She continued to stare straight ahead, a hand absently reaching up to wipe away the solitary tear. Make-up would be none too happy if they had to work on her again. Her world had blurred around the edges a little bit, she felt off-kilter – hardly ideal preparation for performing in front of a live tv audience.

Taking a steadying breath, her eyes wandered the length and breadth of the arena. The feeling of insignificance in this massive space was oddly comforting to her.

Daniel Bryan's music hit then, causing her to jump. Luckily, she was settled in the nosebleed seats, where no one could be privy to her moment of weakness, or her surprised reaction.

She smiled as she watched the man himself half-heartedly pump his arms as he walked to the ring. He was obviously here to go through his match with his opponent tonight. It was moments like this that re-awakened the fan inside of her. This behind the scenes access was too fucking cool.

She impulsively wanted to whip out her phone, make a quick Vine, and send it out to her thirty thousand Twitter followers. It was probably for the best that her outfit was too skimpy to accommodate anything as practical as pockets.

The next theme that blasted out provoked an entirely different reaction from her.

_Aaaaaand there he is._

There was nothing half-hearted about Randy's walk to the ring. He was completely in character, his cold eyes focused on his bearded opponent. She was so enraptured by this man and his characterisation…although, sometimes, she did wonder how much acting was involved. He was worryingly good at playing a psychopath.

His good looks drew you in, before that unpredictable streak caught you off guard - but at that point, it was too late. You were done for. She could testify to that personally.

She owed him a proper explanation, she was all too aware of that fact. Her body would always react to him all too willingly, also another fact. Somehow, she would have to harness that sexual energy into something more productive.

Randy would also have to receive his explanation sooner rather than later. That little matter had been broiling in her brain since the photo shoot. His deadly silence after her weak-ass protestations had only served to make her feel even more uncomfortable with how their situation stood.

A tiny part of her had now accepted that they were not going to happen, that they _couldn't_ happen. But a larger, more dominant part of her was more truthful, and held out hope for a hot and steamy future with that man. She still continued to fantasise about the latter.

Even dressed casually in a pair of black sweat pants and a black sleeveless shirt, the man was an erotic force to be reckoned with. His muscles rippled as he climbed over the rope and stepped into the ring, staring Daniel down before a smile broke across his face, and he slapped the shorter man playfully on the back.

The break in character was so unexpected, but reminded her that Randy wasn't just an intense lust object – he was human, too. In fact, she didn't really know this man at all. He could perhaps be a creep. He might be nasty. Worst of all, he could potentially be wonderful.

It occurred to her that she didn't know the first thing about him. She had been working off of assumptions all this time, and focused solely on his (banging) body. Ugh. She really needed to stop humanising him now. It only made her even more curious about him. Why couldn't she just be happy with objectifying him?

She watched them block their match for a few minutes, before standing up and stretching out the kinks that had started to develop in her neck. Reluctantly, she tore her eyes away from Randy and headed backstage.

This whole situation was only getting more confusing and more complex with each passing day. She wanted him, but couldn't allow herself to have him. She had a career to nurture, but was presented with this dangerous distraction daily. She was slowly being eaten alive by sexual frustration, but for some reason was now interested in knowing him as a person.

She needed to nip this in the bud once and for all. She decided that tonight, she would tell Randy everything. She would make it clear that they were not going to bump uglies. Not now. Not ever.

Arriving at the locker room, she ventured inside and searched through her bag until she found her phone. She scanned through her Twitter feed, her eyes landing on a horoscope for her starsign:

'_You have already met your perfect tall, dark and handsome match. He will fulfill your every wish and need…especially in the bedroom.'_

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

Groaning in frustration, Iseult threw her phone back into the depths of her bag and flung herself down on to the bench.

She quickly made a mental to-do list:

1. Get Randy out of her head.

2. Get someone else into her bed.

* * *

The show was well underway when Iseult was called to the gorilla. The evolution of her character continued at pace tonight, with another guest appearance during Randy's match. Unlike her first appearance, the brief dictated that she would enter the ring _after_ Randy beat Daniel Bryan. She would then study the Viper, before approaching him.

Much to her delight, she would get to enjoy some close contact with that beautiful body of his again – just a little light touching, nothing major. With the cameras and the crowd focused on her, she would have no choice but to keep her mind in check…but that didn't mean that she couldn't enjoy her job.

She still hadn't managed to find the right words to tell Randy that they would not be exploring their chemistry any time soon. She hoped that tonight might trigger a much-needed burst of inspiration in that regard.

Randy's theme song soon kicked in, as he climbed the ropes and struck his signature pose. Right on cue, Iseult sashayed down the ramp, and purposefully climbed the steel steps that led to the ring. Bending down ever so slowly, she slid into the ring. She settled back against the turnbuckle, her arms spread out casually, and shot daggers at Randy's back. Daniel politely slid out under the ropes and limped away.

Once again, they had not rehearsed this section of the show. However, Randy at least had a general idea of what was about to go down this time.

He slowly descended from the ropes, and turned in her direction. A smirk was replaced by his character's preferred mean expression, his electric eyes burning right through her. This time, he was ready for whatever she might throw at him. He sauntered to the centre of the ring, all the while maintaining eye contact with her.

Iseult pushed herself up off the turnbuckle, and smiled coyly as she moved towards him. She allowed her face to reflect the natural lust that this man inspired in her whenever she was within ten feet of him. There wouldn't be a lot of acting required tonight, just pure feeling.

She paused for a long moment, her head tilted to one side as she gazed up at him. The crowd was taken aback by her appearance, causing quiet murmurs to ripple throughout the arena. Her rosebud mouth curled into a sly grin as she continued to watch him.

She was thoroughly enjoying this. Her body bubbled with excited energy that kept her limbs light and loose. Randy studied her equally intently, his entire body locked tight in anticipation.

With a smooth sway of her hips, she moved into his personal space and reached out a single finger to touch the centre of his chest. His skin radiated an extreme heat that almost caused her to pull back. But, no. It was crucial that she maintained her focus.

She began to circle him slowly, her finger never once breaking the connection with his skin, as she trailed it up over one shoulder, down across his muscular back, up over his left shoulder, before finally coming to rest on the skin directly over his heart.

It was at this point that she was supposed to pull back, all the while still staring at him, and retreat backstage. This was the slow game, not a sprint, and it was her duty to give a new taster each week – just enough to whet the appetite of the WWE universe and keep them interested.

However, right as she was about to pull back, Randy's hand shot out to grab hold of her wrist.

Iseult stared at him in disbelief.

What was he doing?

...This was _not_ in the script.

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own, or lay claim to, any of the WWE Superstars/Divas etc referenced in this work. I own Iseult and any other additional original characters that appear throughout this story.**

**A/N: Thank you Awake-the-Dark, Violets in the rain and Sinistergateslegend for your continued support!**

**If this chapter seems odd, it's because I wrote it while in a distracted state. I went to a live show last week AND met The Shield! I had a ridiculously fan fiction type moment with Roman Reigns, which has left me all flustered, so I blame it on that! Also, standing right in front of Dean Ambrose did all sorts of weird things to me. Haha.**

**As always, I would love to hear your feedback. Thanks for reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

Randy glowered at Iseult as he stepped even closer.

His other hand went to the small of her back, causing her to widen her eyes in panic.

He couldn't touch her there! What if he uncovered her scar?

To the watching audience, and even Randy himself, it looked as if she was playing her part perfectly. Internally, she was a wreck, knowing that she had to regain control of the situation, but feeling utterly unable to do so.

Randy's eyes sent her a questioning look that only she could catch, curious as to the sincerity of her reaction. His fingers splayed over the leopard print, down to the top of her butt, pulling her flush up against him. The crowd began to catcall and encourage him, making their wishes abundantly clear.

"Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!"

Randy, maintaining his firm grip on her body, slowly looked from side to side, taking in their words.

Who was he to deny the people?

Iseult's heart was about to beat right out of her chest. Was this his revenge for taking him by surprise last week?

Fear of her scar being revealed on live television in front of millions of people still dominated her thoughts. If kissing him meant that this mental torture would end soon, then she was prepared to do it.

Before she had the opportunity to pounce, Randy chivalrously took the lead. He dipped his head down, capturing her lips in a slow and sweet kiss.

This kiss was soft, and vastly different to their previous make-out session. She had thought that he would attempt to crowd her space and intimidate her, reminding her who the third generation superstar was, but he was instead kissing her with complete reverence.

Her body surrendered itself instantly, as her back arched under his touch.

No opposition.

No fight.

He was tentative at first, dotting gentle little kisses on her lower lip. Her arms hung limply by her sides, as she enjoyed the feeling of simply being held. His palm slid up the length of her neck, before he entwined his fingers in her hair and began to massage her scalp.

The most contented female sigh fell from her lips at that. It felt so damn good to be handled so beautifully by a man that really lit her up.

They were bound so tightly together that she was hyper-aware of his skin pressing hotly on hers from chest to shin. The barest of material separated them from being fully connected. Their height difference meant that her head was tilted backward, allowing Randy to deepen the kiss. Her body yielded to his movements as he wrapped his forearm around her waist, ready to welcome the pleasure that he could give her, that she so desperately craved.

She was vaguely aware of the crowd's cheers. They seemed to be as into it as she was. A miniscule part of her brain, the part that hadn't melted to mush, continued to function and ensured that she appeared to remain in character. It prevented her from putting her hands on him and taking exactly what she wanted from him. Her need was so sharp, to the point of being painful - but all she could do in public was let the tension fall out of her limbs and allow him to mould her to his body.

His lips were firm and warm, applying renewed pressure as he attempted to coax her into a kiss that was a little more raunchy, a little less PG.

_Well…this is unexpected. He's…kissing me like he means it?_

She couldn't help but smile against his mouth, thinking that a certain Chairman would blow a gasket if he saw his top heel tonguing her on national television. Randy, having felt her smile and come to the same conclusion, decided to disregard any such concerns in favour of doing exactly what he wanted.

He gathered a handful of her hair and pulled it across to form a golden curtain that concealed their faces. He twisted his neck to such an angle on the opposite side, so that what happened between their mouths would only be known by the two of them.

She felt the hot, wet slide of his tongue along her lower lip, teasing her to comply with his wishes. His spontaneous act was a complete turn on, one that surely deserved to be rewarded. She was learning that this guy had _major _balls. Figuratively speaking, of course.

She had barely opened her mouth, before Randy eased his tongue inside and flicked it against her own, practically daring her to join him in Vince's office for a good talking to when he inevitably caught wind of their reckless display. Iseult was only too happy to give as good as she got, catching his tongue in her mouth and sucking it until she felt a deep moan rumble through his chest.

It was only when he tapped his thumb on her spine three times that she came back to the present.

_Oh, right. I have a job to do. _

She wrested back her self-control with a herculean effort, and pushed him hard in the chest. She glared at him fiercely, rubbing the back of her hand roughly across her mouth, as if his taste disgusted her.

With a final look of murderous rage, she sprang from the ring and stormed up the ramp. The casual observer would never have guessed that they had gone completely off book.

The Creative team were gathered around the television monitors backstage, their mouths agape. They slowly turned to face her.

Finally, one of them spoke, "Holy _shit. _That was hot."

Iseult smiled weakly and brushed past them, making her way out to the deserted hallway. She quickly reassured herself that the leopard print remained firmly in place around her waist. At least she didn't have to add wardrobe to the list of things that had taken her by surprise in the last few minutes – her confidence, her nerve, and her _colleague. _

Truth be told, the thought of her scar being uncovered had startled her far more than the kiss had. It was not difficult to be enveloped in Randy's embrace, it had just been a little unexpected. His actions had undoubtedly ratcheted up the heat on their characters, meaning that her name would be firmly cemented in the mind of the WWE universe at that very moment.

* * *

"Randy. Wait."

He paused at the sound of Iseult's voice as he emerged into the hallway, silently assessing her while she walked over to him.

"Do you have a minute? I'd like to clear the air on a few things."

Randy followed her over to a row of crates and sat down. He looked at her expectantly, prepared to give her as much time as she needed.

"So…" she began uncertainly. "I know that you've had a lot to absorb about me over the past few weeks. I'm sorry that I didn't come clean right away about my being a wrestler, but we met in such weird circumstances. I was kind of thrown off by all of it. I was new. New to the company, new to RAW, new to this _country. _And you're Randy Orton, which brings a whole heap of other issues and distractions with it."

Randy laughed at that, enjoying Iseult's unfiltered confession.

"Anyway…thank you for giving us that extra heat tonight, even if I wasn't expecting it…but I suppose I deserved a little payback."

"It was all my pleasure, sweetheart."

Iseult playfully slapped him on the shoulder. "Stop it! You can turn off the charm, it isn't going to work with me. I'm trying to be serious here."

He held up his hands in surrender and threw her an innocent look.

"About the other night…I was caught off guard."

"That was kind of the plan," he noted quietly, with a little smile.

"So… I wanted to tell you that it can never happen again. I need to focus on work, and can't afford any distractions. I realise that I'm probably reading way more into this than I should – I mean, look at you – you'll never be short of interested women. I understand that you were just looking for some fun, but it can't happen with me. I hope that we're on the same page…which means no more kissing outside of the ring."

Randy sat in stunned silence. This was not how he had envisioned this discussion going. Was his game off, or something?

She had responded so enthusiastically to his attention, whether it was raw and passionate, or sensual and sweet. Their chemistry was undeniable – so how exactly could she resist it?

He was aware that a connection like theirs was rare, and wasn't happy about this turn of events.

But, if that is what Iseult said she wanted, then he would have to try and respect it. Otherwise, he would merely be living up to his reputation as an asshole when it came to women.

He had tried to change, and it was important that everyone could see that. Her remarks about him only wanting some fun had irked him. He couldn't believe that she had bought into the rumours that followed him wherever he went.

Shrugging his broad shoulders, he stood up and forced a smile.

"I hear you loud and clear, sweetheart. I mean, Iseult. I can't say that I'm not disappointed, but this is your call. See you around."

Iseult frowned at his retreating back.

_Hmmm_.

She had expected a more heated exchange.

She kicked herself mentally, realising that she had wanted him to fight her on this. That was the ultimate in stupid expectations. Why would he fight for her? As she had said herself, Randy Orton would never be short of willing bedmates. He may have been attracted to her, but that could be said for countless other women. She had been a potential one-night stand to him, nothing more, and certainly nothing special.

She tugged at the leopard print again, trying to ignore the feeling of disappointment that settled heavily in the pit of her stomach.

_Never mind. Now I have all the time in the world to focus on my career…just like I wanted…_

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own, or lay claim to, any of the WWE Superstars/Divas etc referenced in this work. I own Iseult and any other additional original characters that appear throughout this story.**

**A/N: Sinistergateslegend, Awake-the-Dark and Violets in the rain – y'all are WONDERFUL. Your lovely words keep me going, so thank you! I'm glad that you think Randy is a beast…he's definitely going to get more beastly…but I'll let you decide if that's a good or bad thing.**

**I forgot to mention – wasn't his promo on last week's RAW just **_**perfect?**_** Yes, Randy. We ARE all fantasising about what it would be like to wake up to you – preach! He sounded so sure of himself, haha. As he should.**


	9. Chapter 9

After her encounter with Randy, Iseult had slinked back to her hotel room and gorged herself on ice cream. She didn't want to admit that the predicament that she found herself in _sucked. _

She had never been the girl who got the guy in the end. Her romantic life consisted of a series of dots and hyphens, rather than continuous lines. She had never had a serious, long-term relationship - preferring to address her needs with like-minded men on a short-term basis. The thought of opening herself up to another person, letting down her defences, and allowing them to see every part of her, had never been an appealing one. It actually sounded downright exhausting.

Her colourful past ensured that she had experienced enough drama to last her a lifetime. She wasn't enough of a masochist to pro-actively pursue self-destruction in the form of inevitable heartbreak.

Flopping back on to her pillow with a deep sigh, her eyes followed the lines of the ceiling, trying to push Randy out of her mind.

If it weren't for this fresh start in her dream job, she would have been happy to jump between the sheets with him. He wasn't made for commitment, and neither was she, so in theory, they would have worked well together for a finite period of time.

She chastised herself for thinking such thoughts. Her steely inner resolve had brought her to this point, and it would continue to serve her best interests, as long as she was willing to listen to it. Randy would just have to remain as the fantasy figure that dominated her dreams. That would be enough. She owed it to herself to fulfill her destiny and change this company for the better.

* * *

Iseult kept her promise to herself, and spent the next fortnight working every hour that God sent.

She had conducted her first radio interviews via phone, participated in a Twitter Q & A, and continued to kick ass in training. Her profile was in the ascent, a fact that was evident when she was featured on the WWE Power Rankings list for the first time – all without even having wrestled a match for the WWE yet.

Stephen had continued to be a good friend – hyping her up to his own million plus Twitter followers. It was awesome to receive such positive feedback and support – it was a stark contrast to the crap that she had endured for several lonely years as she worked toward this point.

Although it frustrated her that she hadn't yet been afforded the opportunity to wrestle a full-length match, she had to remind herself that she was being given the best push imaginable, and that everything would eventually fall into place. In the meantime, it was her duty to ensure that she would be in the best possible shape when that moment arrived. After all - fortune favoured the prepared.

On the previous week's edition of RAW, Iseult had not shown her face. Instead, her character had left her mark in another way – by draping the material from her in-ring outfit throughout Randy's bedroom on his tour bus. His character had been rattled by her little surprise, causing the advantage to shift back in her direction. If social media was any indicator, the WWE universe had made it clear that they were loving this feud, and were curious as to what she would do next. They had expected to see her last week, but her noticeable absence had only increased the anticipation for tonight's show.

* * *

"I came in like a wrrrrecking ball, I never hit so hard in love," Iseult sang softly to herself, tapping her fingers against her thighs as she walked around backstage, her iPod on blast. She had just completed the most divine stretching session in the trainer's room, which had freed up her body and put an extra pep in her step.

"All I wanted was to break your ballllllls…."

She felt a tap on her shoulder, and turned around.

Gideon stood there, a wide grin on his handsome face. She took out her ear-buds, and returned his smile.

"I always took you for a ballbreaker," he laughed. "Do you realise how loudly you were singing?"

"I was not!" She insisted…pretty loudly, now that she could hear herself again. "Oops. Yeah, I have been known to bust some balls in my time. It's not my fault that Miley wrote about my life experiences, though. She's really changed, hasn't she? Singing about breaking balls and being wrecked by a giant penis."

Gideon let out an undignified snort, followed by several sharp splutters of shocked laughter. Iseult looked at him quizzically, raising her eyebrows as she watched him attempt to catch his breath.

"Are you okay?"

He held up a finger, bringing his other hand up to his mouth so that he could cough into his fist and kill his giggle-fit. He cleared his throat, before meeting her eyes again.

"I hate to be the one to break this to you, but Miley wants to break walls - not _balls_," he informed her solemnly.

"_Walls?_ That doesn't make any sense. It's all about how her man is so well-endowed that he keeps on wrecking her, so now she wants revenge…" Iseult trailed off as she pulled out her phone and Googled the lyrics. Her mouth formed a little O as she scanned through the words. "…My bad."

"Please don't ever change," he said, patting her on the shoulder. "I promise that I have a good reason for interrupting your little karaoke session. Alison asked you to go see her when you get a minute. I think she has yet another fabulous outfit planned for you. She has really taken a shine to you, which is a good thing. You don't want to get on the bad side of the wardrobe team, otherwise…well, two words: frumpy grandma."

Iseult thought about his description for a moment, before shrugging her shoulders. "At least it would make me stand out. A hot looking woman isn't anything new around these parts. Frumpy Grandma would be a breath of fresh air."

"I hadn't thought about it like that," he mused thoughtfully. "You really are here to make an impact, aren't you?"

"Oh yes," she nodded, a determined look in her eye. "Although, if I was a frumpy grandma, I doubt that certain Superstars would be kissing me in the middle of the ring. But that wouldn't phase frumpy grandma. She's way over that kind of stuff. As am I."

He gave her a disbelieving look, crossing his arms. "I didn't want to bring it up, but since you did…is there something going on between you and Randy? You two have some unbelievable chemistry, so I can't say that I would be surprised if there was."

She gave him a firm shake of her head, her lips pressed together in a tight line.

"Nope. Nothing to see there. Like I said, frumpy grandma and I have other concerns."

"Such as….?"

"Such as…our wardrobes! Later, Gideon!"

She hurried away from him, throwing a quick wave over her shoulder, keen to evade further interrogation.

* * *

Alison was kneeling by a mannequin on the floor of the wardrobe department when Iseult walked in. She had several clothespins clasped between her lips, frowning in concentration as she pinned back folds of green and gold material.

Iseult waved at her, and pulled herself up on to a worktop, swinging her legs as she waited for her friend to finish.

"That should do it," the designer announced, standing up and moving back to assess her handiwork.

"Ooh, I like," Iseult murmured admiringly. "Which lucky lady gets to wear that?"

"Lady?" Alison asked in confusion, turning to look at her. "This is for Big Show."

Iseult firmly closed her mouth, raised her eyebrows, and tried to look supportive.

"It will really showcase his best assets…like his legs…and…boobs."

"Exactly!" Alison agreed, snapping her fingers and grinning. "Although, the more I look at it, the more I think that it just won't do the man justice. So, you might as well have it."

"Yay!" Iseult slipped from her perch and skipped over to the outfit, admiring the green velvet and golden detail on the top and shorts. "It's very old school Celtic woman. I like. I like a lot."

"I'm glad. It's awesome to design for you and your lovely porcelain skin, it makes for a refreshing change."

"Get a tan, weirdo," Brad Maddox snarked as he emerged from behind a curtain, a pair of eye-wateringly tiny trunks slung over his shoulder as he rocked out of the room.

"Get a bigger pair…of trunks," she sniped right back, earning a middle finger for all of her efforts.

"People really warm up to you right away, don't they?" Alison smiled, presenting the outfit with a flourish.

"I'm a born people person," she shrugged, laughing a little. "Right, give me two seconds."

She quickly shed her workout gear, forgetting that wardrobe was technically still a public department. She noted that several swatches of velvet connected the top and shorts, crossing over in slim lines at her back and stomach. Alison was really getting the hang of this 'don't mention the scar' business.

"Now, stay very still, I don't want to stab you," Alison warned, kneeling down in front of her. "But I will, if you don't tell me the truth."

"Huh?"

Alison threw her a knowing look. "You and a certain Viper. You managed to avoid my questions at the photoshoot, but you can't run from me now. Have you _seen_ the photos? You can practically _feel_ the heat coming from you two when you look at them. So much _sexual tension_."

"What are you talking about? It's called doing my _job._"

"Have you banged him yet? You can tell me the truth. I won't breathe a word of it to a soul."

Iseult's mouth fell open in shock. Was Alison, the sweetest woman in the entire company, really talking about _banging?_

"I can't believe we're having this conversation," she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes. "There is nothing going on between us. We have good chemistry, which is great for our storyline, but that's as far as it goes. And no, we haven't _banged_, as you so eloquently put it."

"Girl, I would love to believe you, if it weren't for your pupils being shot to pieces and your skin being covered in goosebumps right now."

"Yeah, which are signs of _frustration_," Iseult snapped, instantly feeling bad about her reaction.

"Yeah, _sexual_ frustration," Alison mumbled, a smile curving across her lips as she pinned a section of the shorts.

"You're right, I am sexually frustrated. But that has nothing to do with Randy. I'm a woman. I have needs. I have a ridiculous schedule, and am unattached. These things happen."

"Aha! So something _has_ happened!" Alison's face lit up in triumph.

Iseult let out a loud groan and threw her eyes up to the ceiling. Taking a deep breath, she said as calmly as she could, "For the last time, Randy and I are not sleeping together. We're strictly onscreen make-out buddies. I am single and desperate for a man, but that man will _not_ be Randal Keith Orton."

"Why the hell not?" Alison asked incredulously, standing up. Seeing the glare that Iseult offered her, she put her hands up and backed away.

"Okay, okay, I'll drop it. I will say one last thing – if that man throws himself at you tomorrow, it would be a crime against womankind to turn him down. The sisterhood would never forgive you."

Iseult laughed weakly, mentally kicking herself. Alison was right, no straight woman in her right mind would kick Randy out of bed, but she had somehow managed to walk away. This made her a first class idiot, but at least she still had her dream job. That would certainly keep her warm at night, and put a smile on her face in the morning…yeah…

* * *

"It's show time!" Vince McMahon himself yelled from the gorilla, pointing his finger at the blackout sheet that separated the sacrosanct backstage area from the front of house.

Iseult nodded at him, before pulling back the curtain and strolling toward the ramp. She was decked out in Alison's latest design, which drew appreciative wolf whistles from the crowd. Choosing to ignore them, (although giving a few troglodytes a piece of her mind was _very_ tempting, not to mention completely appropriate heel behaviour), she twirled her hair and kept her large blue eyes wide and innocent.

Randy had been in the middle of a promo when she approached the ring. He watched her with wary interest as she drew closer, a sweet smile on her face, her startlingly beautiful eyes enhanced even further by the false eyelashes that Vince had _insisted_ she wear. She had acquiesced eventually, but swore that it would be a cold day in hell before they got her into the tanning booth. Pale was her way, godammnit.

She slithered under the lower ropes, pausing on her knees momentarily to run her eyes over his entire body. She fluidly stood up and took a moment to fuss with the material at her waist, a pointed reminder of her little stunt last week. Looking at him from the corner of her eye, she smiled to herself.

Once again, his body remained tight and ready to pounce, should she pull any more tricks.

_Oh no, no, no. We can't have that_, she thought to herself. _Also_, _GUHHH, you're unfortunately still a gorgeous man that I can never enjoy outside of working hours. _

Grabbing a mic, she prepared to speak for the first time inside of the ring.

"Randy, you look so tense," she mused slowly. "I can't help but feel that I am partly to blame for your unease."

He raised his eyebrows, as if to say _Oh, really?_

Crossing his massive arms, he maintained a defensive stance.

"Although I have enjoyed our little cat and mouse game…I am willing to call a truce, if you'll agree to it."

He remained stony-faced, still unsure as to whether he could trust her.

"You seem wary of my offer, and I can't say that I blame you," she continued, beginning to slowly pace back and forth in front of him.

"I have been unpredictable, to say the least. But it has occurred to me that you and I are not so different. In fact, you could say that we have a _lot_ in common. Wouldn't you agree?"

He shot her an almost imperceptible smirk, spearing her with a hot look.

She felt her sex clench, but refused to be thrown off of her game by him.

"We love to be adored, we live for our moments inside the ring, and we both have a fondness for baby oil." She threw him a sly wink as the crowd let out a salacious "Ooooooh."

"I can see that you might need some evidence of my sincerity. So, as proof of my faith in second chances, I will put my safety in your hands and submit to a trust test. I am willing to fall backwards with my eyes closed, and trust that you will catch me. Are you in?"

She could see that he was slowly starting to come around to the idea. He uncrossed his arms and shook them out, taking a moment to think.

He reached forward to take the mic from her and intoned, "I'm in."

Iseult shot him a winning smile as she strode toward him. With a swing of her hips, she turned to face the opposite direction and made a big show of taking a deep breath and fixing her long hair.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, noticing that he hadn't braced himself for her fall.

Raising an eyebrow, she looked directly up at him and mouthed, "I trust you."

Closing her eyes, she flung her arms out and fell back gracefully. The drop lasted longer than she expected, causing a brief swell of panic to rise up in her stomach, before she felt his muscular arms scoop her up.

_Phew. That was a little too close for comfort, buddy!_

His large hands spanned the length of her midriff, holding her snugly against him. She placed her own hands over his, and gave them a little squeeze. He went to release her, but she crossed his forearms over one another, pulling his chest up against her back. Keeping her hold on him, she tilted her head back to look up at him, her eyes glinting with satisfaction.

"I knew I could trust you," she whispered, loudly enough for the audio team to pick it up. She silently cursed Creative for making her say those particular words to him.

Reluctantly, she moved out of his embrace, taking a few steps towards the ropes.

He watched her intently, his bright blue eyes holding something that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Without warning, she rushed backwards at him, grabbing his neck with her right forearm, and flinging her legs up in the air as her body travelled to the ground, bringing him with her.

"RKO! RKO!" She heard Jerry Lawler yell in disbelief.

The crowd immediately went quiet, unable to comprehend what had just happened. It looked like she had managed to fool them all.

They then burst back into life, boos ringing around the arena.

Iseult smiled indulgently at them, before glancing down at her trust-buddy, who lay prone on the mat. She stood up, and reached down to flip him over on to his back. It took all of her might to move his dead weight, causing her to raise her arms in triumph when she succeeded. This only served to incense the crowd even further. She stood over Randy, smiling proudly**,** with her hands on her hips as she stared down at him.

Preparing for her final death-blow, she eased down on to his hips, so that she was straddling him. Placing her hands on either side of his head, she inched her face closer and closer to his until she could feel his breath on her lips. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, so that the camera didn't miss a thing, she leaned in and planted a kiss on his luscious mouth.

"We're going to have _so_ much fun," she promised him, certain that the mics scattered around the ring would pick up her words.

She wasn't yet aware of just how _fun_ things were going to get…

* * *

**Disclaimer: ****I do not own, or lay claim to, any of the WWE Superstars/Divas etc referenced in this work. I own Iseult and any other additional original characters that appear throughout this story.**

**A/N: batwolfgirl, Thoughts in Chaos, Sinistergateslegend, Awake-the-Dark and Violets in the rain – your reviews are very much appreciated, and spur me on with this story. It is **_**beyond **_**cool to get your feedback. I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter! (Don't judge me too harshly for my attempt at comedy, I was trying to lighten the mood for Iseult!)**

**Her single-minded nature is going to cause her some trouble. Randy's preference for being unpredictable won't help, either…ruh roh!**


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